The Death Of The Tramp In The Park

On The Death Of Patrick McVarish

Tramp cooked by the sun
Hot enough to fry an egg upon
Marinated in lager he died
Alone, with no-one by his side.

For six hours in the park
His burning skin turning dark
His organs boiling in their blood
A man that no-one understood

In the heatwave, he sat down
With the parched earth all around
To still the pain in his heart
Now pains are gone
and from the living, he departs

Unable to respond to his fears
Painfully he shed his tears
That evaporated from his eyes
Drifting from his face into the skies

The laughter at the inquest began
When described as the boil in a bag man
But a man came to this end
Dying in a park without a friend

Nov 7, 97

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