I walk past this beggar, once or twice a week,
Sitting in the same spot, smoking, or having something to eat.
I always think you bludger.
He\'s to old to get a job,
But I can\'t help thinking, he\'s just a bludging slob.
Today I stopped to talk to him,
And when I looked into his eyes,
All I saw was sadness, much to my surprise.
He took my gift with Grace,
Never said a word.
Now I sit here thinking,
What a judging turd.