The Stranger

With the wind blowing strong all through the night,
This autumn morning calm, seems such a sight.
For the migrating birds flying south for the season,
Singing their song, with rhyme and with reason.

Along comes a stranger, clothes tattered and torn,
Around a long bend down the road over worn.
He comes to an old tavern, all lively and bright,
And enters therein, to stand in the light.

The waitress, she looks at his clothes - his attire,
And ushers him out, away from the fire.
The bartender/owner he jumped out like a flash
To bring the poor man in, without worry of cash.

He spoke to the stranger and asked where he’s from,
The stranger said quietly, “It is battle whence I come.”
“‘Tis battle whence you come?”asked the bartender here.
“But no battles have we had, for many a long year!”

“That is true,” said the stranger with a nod of his head,
“I fear that is true and I feel like I’m dead!
For many a mile have I wandered in the cold,
Only to fear that it is not heaven I hold.

True to my heart, true to my soul,
True to my love, I’ll never grow old.
For I have seen the last of my life
But for this one night, I hold such a knife!

To this bar I have come to give you a present
To the one who would share his place with a peasant.
To you I give the gift of good fortune,
Because you have given the gift..., warmth.”