In the town I grew up in there was a man who played a tambourine and half sang half spoke his stories to anyone who would listen. I first saw him when I was 6. I put a dime in his cup. I stopped by when I was 16 to tell him I was going to College. I stopped by when I was 20 to tell him I was home, but he was gone. One of my greatest regrets is not writing down what he had to say. Some of the wisest things I ever learned only cost me a dime.

Lyrics

In his worn shoes and ragged clothes
A tambourine full of holes
He played while the world passed him by
For a nickel or a dime he’d sing as he kept time
To a world that paid him little mind

For the small crowed that gathered near
Would never see a single tear
That lay behind the twinkle in his eye
And his sadness all the while
Was hidden with a smile
As the world shook its head and passed him by

But he’s just a street musician
The corner is his stage
Though he’s got a lot to say
He’s very seldom paid
And his dreams of fame and fortune
Are only a portion
Of his pain

He sings of all the times he’s known
The love the laughter he has shown
To you it seems like just a foolish dream
Though it’s hard to understand
How dreams can make a man
Perhaps they’re more important than they seem

But he’s just a street musician
The corner is his stage
Though he’s got a lot to say
He’s very seldom paid
And his dreams of fame and fortune
Are only a portion
Of his pain

In his worn shoes and ragged clothes
A tambourine full of holes
He played while the world passed him by
For a nickel or a dime he’d sing as he kept time
To a world that paid him little mind