with nods to Robert W. Service and the Salvation Army
When I reached age twenty and thought I knew plenty I moved to New York to find work
Fresh from the U.P. and thrilled to be free the city was a mind-blowing perk
For I longed to be a writer who would make the days brighter and I scoured the Big Apple for material
Ten million stories full of heartbreak and glories and characters whose lives felt ethereal
The Bowery was the best with its souls dispossessed who hoped they’d survive through the night
So I started going down and just hanging around to gather strange tales to write
There were lots of old drunks and a few mean-eyed punks but most chaps were docile and kind
I’d pay for their beer which produced lots of cheer and they’d tell me dark secrets on their mind
One day I drank a lot and didn’t feel so hot so I headed for the subway uptown
The mission’s service was starting so instead of departing I decided I ought to stick around
The room was jam-packed with no space at the back but the front row contained one last seat
There were hundreds of men who were back once again and were desperate for something to eat
The mission served dinners but their true aim was sinners so a sermon preceded the meal
Major Cherney had zip and she shot from the hip, saying winos deserve a fair deal
Major wound up her thing by insisting we sing, then invited non-diners to go
Not planning to eat I got up from my seat and the crowd whispered, “This guy’s so slow”
Major pointed to the rear and though wobbly from beer I finally stumbled to a door
The hall was pitch black and I nearly turned back when a grasping hand shook me to the core
It was Captain Olive Green in her uniform pristine whose intent was to save me from my fate
She asked lots of stuff about life being rough and dissected my addled mental state
I vowed to leave skid row, work to conquer my woe, and hopefully regain my lost pride
Olive said that the Army ran a mission less smarmy way up on the Upper East Side
I promised to attend although that was pretend and my only desire was escape
Captain Olive wished me well, said I wasn’t bound for Hell, and prayed I would wind up shipshape
So my last Bowery visit was less than exquisite and the time came to say my farewell
And yet, nonetheless, I am happy to confess that I did find a story to tell
