|
He often comes when I'm lone and sad -
The organ man, with his tunes so old;
And his presence always makes me glad,
Although other surly folk may scold.
I'm very fond of "popular airs,"
But best I like when the children troop
Out from alleys and tenement stairs,
And gather round him, a noisy group.
He makes them sing to the tunes he
plays,
And these old, old children dance with glee;
Why, I know they'd forget their childish ways
Were it not for the organ man and me.
For a penny tossed brings a bow profound,
And a sunny smile to his sallow face;
Then he turns the handle faster round,
While the music quivers through the place.
For here downtown, where the factories
Wall in the tenements dark and grim,
And shut out the light, the air, the breeze,
There would be no children but for him.
So he comes to see me every day,
Starting his tunes at my welcoming glance;
And I'm but too glad to be able to pay
The little it costs, while the children dance.
Roy L. McCardell
|
|
