| In a small town where all knew all, wondered a peasant lady nobody knew, | 
| But her only friend was a young boy, brought her hot tea and leftover stew, | 
| In those burnin' wintry Decembers, he’d pick dirty pennies up off the cold | 
| street, | 
| And while his mother was out Christmas shopping, he’d say, «Come on in, | 
| warm your feet.» | 
| As long as you share with me stories, so she spoke on the product of war, | 
| My mother never knew who she could be, as my father lay drunk on the floor, | 
| And she spoke of the cart that she wheeled, had keys with no locks, | 
| and guitars with no stings, and a puzzle that could never be finished, | 
| But this is my home, and these broken things are… | 
| But the boy went on to be taught in the schools, | 
| to not talk to strangers and don’t feed the fools, | 
| Grew older and further and over-forgot, | 
| as she was forced to move from lot to lot to lot, | 
| She said, «I guess it was much in his nature to become an Enforcer of Law, | 
| My old friend’s got a gun to protect me from the rock-tossing drunks from the | 
| bars.» | 
| «Oh, he seemed like the sort to help others, so I’ll find him while he’s on the | 
| beat, | 
| and say 'Remember me, I’m the old lady you’d give the pennies you found on the | 
| street?'» | 
| When she found him she saw not the young boy who dug for the roots of her junk, | 
| She came face-to-face with a stern, vacant soldier, grinning and spinning a | 
| club, | 
| He said, «Don't you know that you can’t be here? | 
| You’ll hurt business and scare away the kids. | 
| Go wander around in some other town; | 
| get out or I’m taking you in.» | 
| «But officer, I fondly remember you — | 
| young boy who would give me the leftover stew, | 
| would take me inside to the warm fire coals, | 
| and those hundreds of pennies bought me all these clothes.» | 
| It’s against the law to peddle | 
| It’s against the law to eat | 
| It’s against the law to have nothing more than the shoes full of holes on your | 
| feet | 
| And now they’ve put bars across the park benches, so I guess it’s illegal to | 
| sleep | 
| They buried something inside of you, Officer | 
| Into your cold heart, dig deep | 
| And you’ll see that it’s me | 
| And here I’ll be, nothing new to me | 
| I’ll be heartbroken and cold, frozen and alone | 
| My coffin was a dumpster and I didn’t even know | 
| But while out on the beat, he looked down to the street, | 
| and he saw a dirty penny heads up at hid feet | 
| And it made him think of an old tall-tale of an old woman who pushed 'round a | 
| cart, | 
| And the boy who fed her and helped her, knew he shoulda deep in his heart | 
| …But where did he hear that old tall-tale? | 
| But hey, what a story to spread | 
| So he told it to his own growing boy, once in a while before bed |