Catinga was his name

Smelled like a skunk, nicotine drunk, the boff of beer on his breath
Oh how he stunk of cemetery funk, yesterdays stench of death
His gait wobbled, his hands bobbled the glass that held his brew
As if hobbled, on the street cobbled, he spilled a drop or two 

Pocket with a hole, the same as the sole of his worn out shoe
Inside a chest his riches possessed, hidden from common view
His pearls freely dispersed, by others cursed, thrown in his face
A treasure derided, a wise man chided, wisdom to debase

He'd been here a while but nary a smile, he was a fixture of the place
Many did him revile, some his body did defile, calling him a disgrace
But he was mild with the manners of a child, he showed a toothless grin
Inside undefiled by a world gone wild, in innocence free of their sin