An End of Year Poem
“Top of the morning!” he says with a smile
While walking down main street alone single file
The brim of his green hat has a crease down the middle
Strapped to his shoulder he carries his fiddle
He’s short, a bit plump, though he doesn’t seem fat
A jolly old soul with a step like a cat
You’d think him a plain old sort of a man
With rosy round cheeks more red than tan
I’ve seen him before by the corner drug store
Playing his fiddle you can’t help but adore
His hat always tilted it gives him a flair
Like a star in the theater so debonair
I watched and I listened to the songs he did sing
’Twas Christmas and good cheer he wanted to bring
To all that would listen and smile ear to ear
As he sang of good wishes for the coming New Year.(A poem from the Wolrad collection #73)
