THE SWAGGIE . . .

In the cemetery there stands a simple wooden cross
on it, Swaggie, caught my eye and imagination
no claim to fame, achievement, just one of society's dross
a harmless soul, nobody knew, a-tramping around the Nation

His old felt hat, worn jauntily, belongings, swag on back
grey whiskers, tousled hair, flowing long white beard
worn boots, army great coat, heading along unknown track
almost a trade mark, about him not many people cared

Leading a simple life, never a worry or ever creating a fuss
communicating with nature, in heart and mind content
a lifelong dream fulfilled, maybe strange to many of us
looking at life in a different perspective, no fairy story

Many a place he had been, hitching a ride or just walk
always as one with nature, according to environment
about his travels, if you asked, only too willing to talk
for many hours, wishing his odessy would never end

Days of the Swaggie, romantic as they may seem, no more
like so many things of yesteryear, passing into Folklore
as in life, so too in death, at rest under a shady tree
no name, no Epitaph, just an all encompassing "Swaggie