Old Beamer half-heartedly barks. <br />'Your mamma's a very kind lady.' <br />A gentleman warmly remarks. <br /> <br />His thin shaking hands badly fumble, <br />Removing his misshapen old hat. <br />His manner is passive and humble, <br />As he stands on our welcome mat. <br /> <br />I decide to politely un- notice, <br />The buttons are missed from his suit. <br />I hear him give thanks for his blessings, <br />Then I ask if he likes Mamma's soup. <br /> <br />'It's scrumptious, ' he said, <br />'And so is the butter and bread'. <br />Quite suddenly then, his dinner is done, <br />Except for the, 'Pie? Oh my, I haven't pie, <br />Since......nineteen and forty-one! '<br /><br />Connie Yost<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/i-hear-the-train-whistle-fading/
