Chingly Pingly,
That’s the sound of the coins
Rattling in my red cup.
My hoarse voice singing out to the crowd,
Gospel songs that will guilt their conscience,
Pennys drop into my red cup,
I pause my song to mutter
“Thank you, God bless you”
I think it was a woman,
I always could tell by the way they walk.
As morning turns to noon,
I sing louder,
Rattling the coins in my cup,
And hitting my walking stick hard on the ground,
Partly to get the passer by’s attention,
As they make their way to lunch.
Partly to express my hunger,
As the sweet scent of food gets to my nostril,
Partly to express my anger,
At the place where am at!
Its one thing to be uneducated,
Another to live on the streets,
But it’s completely different when you are deprived,
Of the ability to see.
Noon turns to evening,
My red cup rattles no more,
My stick sits beside me,
The weight of my world,
Can be seen in my posture,
Maybe this will touch someone
To drop me something more than loose change,
But its not the reason why am sitting like this,
My posture is genuine.
I think of my wife and two children,
Begging at the other end of town,
I wonder how much they may have,
I wonder if we have enough to scramble something to eat.
For I am a blind beggar,
With a responsibility like any other man,
To feed my family!
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