It was time for celebration
Thanksgiving weekend was now here
A time for food and football
A time for love and prayer
In front of old Gianni's
The parade was marching by
But, way back in the alley
Someone was singing to the sky
The Blues man sat and pondered
As he sometimes chose to do
Of his songs and of his music
That really reached too few
The parade was full of bluster
High School Bands and all that stuff
While out back of Old Gianni's
The Blues man had it rough
But, he sang songs of Thanksgiving
To the Lord, and to the sky
He was praising all worlds beings
Though no body did pass by
He sang "Glory, Glory, Glory"
He sang "Allehlujah " too
Even though he sat with no one
The Blues man wasn't blue
Back door opened slowly
As the parade was winding down
People from The Street
Were slowly coming round
The Blues man didn't notice
Singing on without a break
Singing songs of praise and glory
With just the sounds that he could make
Then all at once he looked out
Saw the quickly gathered throng
He changed what he was playing
And he broke into a song
The Blues man started Christmas
Singing of a Christmas Tree
And of a long ago soft Silent Night
And the entire show was free
He didn't sing of presents
He didn't sing of our excess
He sang Christmas Hymns of long ago
When we all gave thanks for less
The Blues man had his medcin'
Drank a bit, and sang some more
Then he started slowing down
When she came out from her back door
The woman with the used book place
Stood silent, listening with this cast
Of The Street owners and people
On who life had given up so fast
She walked up to The Blues man
Through the crowd to where he was
And she started singing with him
Which made the Blues man pause
He knew he'd heard this voice before
Back when people knew his name
It was older and some shaky
But, the voice it was the same
The woman looked down at him
Gave a smile, shed a tear
Then she said "It's me dad"
"It's no dream...I am here"
The Blues man kept on playing
For two hours more or so
When the weather, not the people
Put an end to this mans show
Another past Thanksgiving
Was still playing in his mind
But, The Blues man and his daughter
Had a life they had to find
No one heard her say it
Just The Blues man, as he sang
This was the start of a new story
As bells of Thanksgiving loudly rang
Sep 10, 2015
Sep 10, 2015 at 11:14 AM UTC
It was time for celebration
Thanksgiving weekend was now here
A time for food and football
A time for love and prayer
In front of old Gianni's
The parade was marching by
But, way back in the alley
Someone was singing to the sky
The Blues man sat and pondered
As he sometimes chose to do
Of his songs and of his music
That really reached too few
The parade was full of bluster
High School Bands and all that stuff
While out back of Old Gianni's
The Blues man had it rough
But, he sang songs of Thanksgiving
To the Lord, and to the sky
He was praising all worlds beings
Though no body did pass by
He sang "Glory, Glory, Glory"
He sang "Allehlujah " too
Even though he sat with no one
The Blues man wasn't blue
Back door opened slowly
As the parade was winding down
People from The Street
Were slowly coming round
The Blues man didn't notice
Singing on without a break
Singing songs of praise and glory
With just the sounds that he could make
Then all at once he looked out
Saw the quickly gathered throng
He changed what he was playing
And he broke into a song
The Blues man started Christmas
Singing of a Christmas Tree
And of a long ago soft Silent Night
And the entire show was free
He didn't sing of presents
He didn't sing of our excess
He sang Christmas Hymns of long ago
When we all gave thanks for less
The Blues man had his medcin'
Drank a bit, and sang some more
Then he started slowing down
When she came out from her back door
The woman with the used book place
Stood silent, listening with this cast
Of The Street owners and people
On who life had given up so fast
She walked up to The Blues man
Through the crowd to where he was
And she started singing with him
Which made the Blues man pause
He knew he'd heard this voice before
Back when people knew his name
It was older and some shaky
But, the voice it was the same
The woman looked down at him
Gave a smile, shed a tear
Then she said "It's me dad"
"It's no dream...I am here"
The Blues man kept on playing
For two hours more or so
When the weather, not the people
Put an end to this mans show
Another past Thanksgiving
Was still playing in his mind
But, The Blues man and his daughter
Had a life they had to find
No one heard her say it
Just The Blues man, as he sang
This was the start of a new story
As bells of Thanksgiving loudly rang
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