He's just <br />Any old man <br />In any old bar <br />With a guitar <br /> <br />Then a drunk <br />Comes up and say's <br />Play us a barre <br /> <br />Every line on his face <br />Is a hook <br />For a book <br /> <br />Every crease in his neck <br />Is for the pain <br />He had to take <br /> <br />So he didn't care <br />About some young drunk <br />He just pulled up a chair <br /> <br />He started to play <br /> <br />People could do nothing but stare <br />At the sweet sound <br />Of misery and despair <br /> <br />As the bluesman played <br />The drunk fell to his knees <br />Tears of respect <br />Rolled down his face <br />As he felt the bluesmans fears <br /> <br />He took him to places he'd never been <br />He took him back <br />With the sweet sound of home <br />He took him <br />To where he had grown <br /> <br />His name <br />Was bluesman Jack<br /><br />Dave Alan Walker<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/bluesman/
