This is true.
author: Edna Sweetlove
I was sitting in the train one sunny afternoon
When a tramp, a beggar, got on board.
He was such a sad, pathetic sight
That my generous heart went out to him
Even as he began his sad little recitation:
"Sorry to disturb you nice people
On this lovely summer's afternoon,
Believe me I wouldn't do this unless I had to,
If I had any other choice, but I'm trying hard
To get enough money to pay for a bed
And dinner this evening, so I don't have
To sleep on the streets yet another night,
So any spare change would be appreciated,
No matter how small, every little helps."
Then he hobbled tremblingly along the aisle
And we could see he was a semi-cripple
With sore-covered arms and a pronounced tic,
Hand held out more in hope than serious expectation,
As travellers averted their eyes from his plight.
But I, the lovely Edna, dug ever so deep
Into my Gucci handbag and fished out a note
And, with a kindly flourish, gave him it.
The beggar gawped: it was a fifty
And tears rolled down his grimy cheeks
As he mumbled thanks in pathetic gratitude.
The pompous fat-arse next to me spoke:
"You must have more money than sense, Madam,
To give fifty pounds to that filthy wastrel!"
And I responded with a smile, "Shut your gob, you cunt,
It was a forgery, do you think I'm as stupid as you look?"
And how the carriage rocked in mirth at my witty prank.
Poetry by Edna Sweetlove
Read 1022 times
Written on 2007-02-13 at 14:24
Tags Humour Adults Charm
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Edna's Unusual Act of Generosity
Edna's Generosity Is A Wonder To Beholdauthor: Edna Sweetlove
I was sitting in the train one sunny afternoon
When a tramp, a beggar, got on board.
He was such a sad, pathetic sight
That my generous heart went out to him
Even as he began his sad little recitation:
"Sorry to disturb you nice people
On this lovely summer's afternoon,
Believe me I wouldn't do this unless I had to,
If I had any other choice, but I'm trying hard
To get enough money to pay for a bed
And dinner this evening, so I don't have
To sleep on the streets yet another night,
So any spare change would be appreciated,
No matter how small, every little helps."
Then he hobbled tremblingly along the aisle
And we could see he was a semi-cripple
With sore-covered arms and a pronounced tic,
Hand held out more in hope than serious expectation,
As travellers averted their eyes from his plight.
But I, the lovely Edna, dug ever so deep
Into my Gucci handbag and fished out a note
And, with a kindly flourish, gave him it.
The beggar gawped: it was a fifty
And tears rolled down his grimy cheeks
As he mumbled thanks in pathetic gratitude.
The pompous fat-arse next to me spoke:
"You must have more money than sense, Madam,
To give fifty pounds to that filthy wastrel!"
And I responded with a smile, "Shut your gob, you cunt,
It was a forgery, do you think I'm as stupid as you look?"
And how the carriage rocked in mirth at my witty prank.
Poetry by Edna Sweetlove
Read 1022 times
Written on 2007-02-13 at 14:24
Tags Humour Adults Charm
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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Edna Sweetlove |
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Mark J. Wood |
