A Travelling Romany Poem by Joyce Hemsley

A tramp was he, a vagrant,
A lost soul from the street,
With clothes all torn and shabby
And no shoes on his feet.

Our hearts were heavy-laden,
We bowed our heads to pray,
And offered to take him home
On that cold and rainy day.

We fed him ~ soothed his brow
Gave him warmth and new attire.
We spoke to him, we joked with him
that poor man from the mire.

A bed was made and whisky laid
Upon the bedside chair...but
With the dawn, our friend had gone
On the road to 'Anywhere'.

'Twas a sad farewell to a fairy-tale
For he was a Romany; his life
He lived beneath the stars
A travelling mystery.