high on a windy hill
a pie sits on a windowsill
a little drummer boy beats a drum
waiting for a passing bum
the bum plods up the winding road
the rain beats on his head in code
he has a message for mrs jones
who sits beside her telephone
the bum is set to play his part
the message he has learned by heart
given to him word for word
by st gabriel’s hummingbird
the night is dark, the lightning flashes
the poor bum’s brain is turned to ashes
where is gabriel now?
the bum trods on, he knows not how
the message from the rain
will never be read again
the drummer boy drums on
ready to drum till dawn
mrs jones has not a clue
but remains faithful and true
when the angel returns in disguise
he will find her baking her pies
next poem
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