• He was a dirty old man, covered in dirt.
    He had a beer in his hand and stains on his shirt.
    When I walked past, he begged for money,
    But I simply refused, “Sorry not today, honey.”
    Every day he pleaded for a coin or dollar;
    My patience was growing smaller and smaller.

    One unusually warm autumn day,
    I had past that old man’s ally way.
    I expected to hear a holler and hoot;
    I heard nothing and saw nothing, but an old boot.
    Where did the man go? I thought to myself.

    Then I heard a familiar tune that the old man used to whistle.
    I turned fast and almost tripped on some thistle.
    A well-shaven well-suited man came walking my way,
    He shook my hand firmly and said, “Good day!”

    It was the hobo that used to beg me for money.
    To my surprise he was very kind and funny!
    He told me of his ventures in World War II;
    He’s been through a lot he mumbled in a soft coo.

    I asked him how his apparel has changed;
    He replied he saved up from all the nice people who spared him change.
    I told him I was sorry and offered him five dollars,
    He pushed it away and fixed his collar.
    “I don’t need it anymore; I just got a job offer!”
    And that’s when I learned to never judge a book by its cover.