The fellows we meet


The first fellow we meet

is one fine looking leaf

we pass him by with a friendly nod

and up the path we do trod on.


The second chap has a sweet mint perfume

his offered candy we do consume.


And by and by we come upon

a short little fellow with a blue coat on.


We then pass a lady, her skin quite pale

her belongings scattered across the winding trail

in her left hand she holds a cigar

though it has begun to rain

she puffs it hard.


We pass a man who is brittle and frail

he looks like he needs a good ginger ale.


The last we meet by a rotted gate

his trunk is twisted in a gnarled state

a home once stood under his weathered boughs

a final sentinel, a lonely plough.