he is cold wet and damp
lives in his own abode
no one knows this tramp
who lives near road
every car every splash
must keep him awake
in morning people dash
eating crumbs from jaffa cake
smelly tatty clothes
hasn't shaved for years
dirty rotting grimy toes
drunk just shouting cheers
plodding to your work
in your suit or dress
whist that drunk smirks
getting more into a mess
do we take on that tramp
the life that he's chosen
maybe its the street lamp
but now i confess i'm frozen
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem