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PS-400 Old Poets- The Vagabond
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Words adapted from "THE FACE UPON THE FLOOR" by Antoine D'Arcy vagdub3_the_vagabond
lyricist instrumentalist soloist satirist humorist improvisationalist popite classic rocker poetryist electronicist progressivist acousticker pioneerionator contemporaryist electronic music mannheimie singer song writerer originalicist classicalister comedyiker vocalaloquist com posererie uniquer mult instrumentalist synthesizerismistytitian avant gardist game music mukiester neo classyciscicist pianerist cross genre dresser
I now create music so people can spend time with better company.
Cover Songs on Soundclick: https://www.soundclick.com/numiwhocreativecovers Writing: https://allpoetry.com/Mr._Numi_Who- Books: Numi Who? on Amazon (books) Art: http://wbiro.deviantart.com Early Art: http://www.flickr.com/photos/38154648@N00 Music Videos: http://www.youtube.com/user/wbiro Self-made Music Catalog (to 2016): http://numi-imagination-creations.me/01-art-catalog/wbiro_artistic_catalog_1967-2016_update_34.html Original Music on Soundcloud (more complete list there): https://soundcloud.com/wbiro Cover Songs on Soundcloud (more complete list there): https://soundcloud.com/user-288568536
Song Info
Genre
Podcasts Poetry
Charts
Peak #101
Peak in subgenre #19
Author
words: Antoine D'Arcy and wbiro; music: wbiro
Rights
wbiro
Uploaded
September 12, 2011
Track Files
MP3
MP3 7.0 MB 192 kbps 5:06
Lyrics
'Twas a balmy summer evening and a friendly crowd was there That nearly filled the barroom on the corner of the square And as songs and timely stories poured through the open doors A vagabond crept slowly in and leaned upon the floor! "Where did he come from?" and someone quipped, "The wind has blown him in!" "What does he want but some free warmth from whiskey, rum, or gin?!" This deriding the poor wretch took with stoical good grace, In fact, he faintly smiled as though he found the proper place. A response was due and all eyes were fixed upon that beggar's face And much to their surprise he put them right into their place: "Give me a drink, yes, that's what I want, I'm out of funds, you know, Though when I had cash to treat the gang, this hand was never slow!" "Come, I know there's kindly hearts among so good a crowd, To be in such good company would make my mother proud!" "Ah, there, that braced me nicely, and God bless you, one and all! As soon as my fortunes rise again I'll make another call!" "Hey! Give me another whiskey, and I'll tell you what I'll do: I'll tell you here the story about my rendezvous with ruin!" "That I was ever a decent man not one of you would think, But I was some four or five years back... say! Give me another drink!" "You've treated me pretty kindly, and it's time to tell you how I came to be the sorry rag you see before you now." "Once I was a successful gent, with fortune, fame, and health, And, but for a flaw in character, would have kept my considerable wealth!" "I worked hard at my living, and was smartly on the rise, I soon saw the star of fame dangling before my eyes!" "But this was not the reason that I was knocked down on my knees, For I fell in love under a misty moon to seal my disease!" "It is here who enters the evil woman who darkens this story hence, With emotions that petrified my brain and darkened my good sense!" "Her scheming fingers gently pried my heart loose from my chest, My money from my wallet, and... Well, you see here the rest!" "I took her to the mall one day in autumny November And we ran across a friend of mine whom I could barely remember." "She critically admired him, and, not to my surprise Said that she'd like to know the guy who wore such expensive ties!" "It didn't take very long for her, and before the month was through, She had found herself another sap, and I broke, torn, and blue!" "Now, if you give me one more drink, (just one!), and I'll be glad To draw right here on the wooden floor the girl who drove me mad!" "Give me that piece of chalk with which you mark your P's and Q's And you'll see the spell binding woman's form for which I'm paying my dues!" With empty drink and chalk in hand, the vagabond began To draw right there on the wooden floor the girl who drove him mad. Then, as he placed the last fine line upon that curvaceous form He went screaming like a lunatic and ran right out the door! And disappeared into the morn.! And was heard and seen no more! We closed the house, swept up a bit, and headed out at three, And wondered for a moment, who... the next vagabond would be? You or me? Could it be? We will see! Words adapted from "THE FACE UPON THE FLOOR" by Antoine D'Arcy
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