A homeless man from Ivria
Had known the sewers well
For he had known the sounds of halls
Made thick for shipping hell
He swam the slush of others’ junk
And listen to the sound
He came to love the melody
And let it make the rounds
Till one lone day he found a brush
And used some excess paint
He painted all the sewer walls
And made fun from the quaint
See he too came from Ivria
He too hailed from the west
His father was a working man
A workin’ for the least
But in his workaholic mode
He met none of sons’ needs
And in so doing broke the code
Of raising family
But though he landed in the dump
Though dwelled in swamp refuse
He took surroundings, pulled the trump card
With what could be used
Some wilted roses mashed & mixed
Some melted cheese with mold
Some ancient copper now turned green
Some blueberries now cold
Some violets from smashed pottery
Some white from rice-stained pans
All colors of his rainbow came
And soon found hue in hand
And as he painted on the walls
(Long after warrior came)
The mural drew the herald’s calls
To spread the painting’s fame
All Scotland came to see the sight
(And some from clover fields)
This eastern beggar turned it right
Because of artist’s zeal
He made some from admission’s price
To fund his brother’s stay
And found a cottage warm & nice
For wooing forth a dame
He only lived for those he loved
He lived not for the fame
And by divine-bred grace above
He painted all the same
