The Dedicated Fundraiser Poem by Denis Martindale

In every town across the land
We find him holding out his hand -
Collecting funds for charity
From folks like you... and folks like me!
He stands there waiting, rain or shine,
Hoping we will not decline
The needs of those that he holds dear -
For whom he chose to volunteer!
They may be starving refugees!
His conscience hears their earnest pleas!
They may be blind, deaf, dumb or lame!
Their plight is now his sacred aim!
They may be helpless, quite forlorn!
A noble cause has just been born...
A flood or earthquake, who can say! ?
And yet, through him, help's on its way!
But only if he stands and waits,
Upon the Council's licenced dates,
For many seek to raise funds, too...
From folks like me... and folks like you!
It's up to us to contribute -
To play the saint or stay the brute!
Donate a pound or walk on by,
Not asking who or what or why...
He simply stands in silent hope
To save some lives... help victims cope...
So, think again! Don't hurry past!
This chance to help may be the last!
It's up to us to show we care...
Just like the man who's standing there...