There's A Song In His Soul Poem by Gloria Comingore

I can hear him singing soft and low.
His melody flows like a flooded river side.
He just can’t help himself, for a song is in his soul.

No matter where he goes the songs are not far behind.
They follow him like bee’s to honey.
His stories go into songs as natural as can be.

His talent is rare as he plays a guitar or banjo.
His fingers flying as he sings to us.
There always seems to be yet just one more.

He sings to one or a hundred and one.
It’s all the same to him as his stories are told.
As his heart and soul are in the songs that will come.

As we listen as he makes us laugh or cry.
The stories of the songs stay on our minds.
As we sit and watch his fingers fly over the strings of his guitar.

With new places he goes for just one more show.
And the stories still come with one more friend.
There’s a song in his soul that has to be sung until the end.