The Beggar
                                   -William C. Thomas

In bustling old Threadneedle Street a beggar plies his trade.

Beside some vestas in a cup his greasy cap is laid.

A jagged scar curls up his lip and tugs upon his eye.

The sight of him is pitiful to the passerby.

Each day he entertains the crowds with quick, sardonic wit.

The cap soon fills with copper pence, until they barely fit.

Near five the beggar gives a yawn and rises from his seat.

He walks to upper Swandam Lane upon his crippled feet.

The beggar has a filthy room above an opium den.

He checks his pocket watch against the chiming of Big Ben.

The crippled beggar changes clothes as fast as he is able.

The twisted lip is taken off and placed upon the table.

A costly business suit is donned, the rags are cast aside.

He sets a hat atop his head, his tie is deftly tied.

The beggar hails a hansom cab, and names a place in Kent.

He steps inside and ponders how his money shall be spent.

He strides into his stately home and hands his son some blocks.

He gives his lovely wife a kiss; she thinks he deals in stocks.

                                  *Ellery Queen Magazine

                                   September, 1985

                                                                                            * With the permission of the author