Pepper In My Soup Poem by Saint Eule

The hobo sat by train yard awaiting his ride;
Leaving the town of forgotten dreams.
His luck had ran out and it was time to move on;
The job situation is not what it seems.

His children were left in the church;
His wife was long dead.
He thought that a kindly stranger;
Would at least kept them fed.

He had a few beans heated in water to fix;
He played an old harmonica on a stoop.
The hobo made due with scraps of mulligan mix;
Lord if I only had some pepper in my soup.

With thoughts of my children in a safe place,
Can a little hot pepper the taste just to chase.

I left the train yard to just knock on a door,
to beg for some pepper and nothing more.

When a widow answered her husband killed in battle;
She welcomed me inside and we shared some tea.
We talked of our troubles of times we went through;
As we parted she gave a shaker of pepper for me.

As I thanked her and headed out for the track,
I saw tears in her eyes whilst looking back.

The train whistle was blowing but I could not go,
My life started with pepper and my new wife Flo.