Skin And Bone

Skin And Bone

By Paul McCann

He lay there in the shadows of a dirty street ,

with  rats crawling around, gnawing at his feet ,

hungry and alone, no friends ,  no home ,

one set of clothes , all  skin and bone  .

Skin and bone, body and soul ,

living in a hole on a hard station ,

making the best  of  his  situation ,

living on the fringe in isolation.

A good man who did the best he could ,

begging for food round the neighbourhood ,

with NFA and no ID ,

n the concrete heart of the cold city .

Skin and bone all alone ,

sleeping all night in the alleyway

and waking up hungry once again

to walk through backstreets of another day.

There’s a story told  of when he first to came

to find his fortune and seek some fame

but they stole everything that he had owned

and left him penniless and all alone .

Skin and bone , body and soul ,

they found in a doorway in the freezing cold ,

then they put him a hole all alone

without a name on his headstone.

Skin and bone , body and soul ,

that’s what we are at the end my friend ,

skin and bone , body and soul ,

. take it away and throw it in  a hole .