The Hometown Man

I know a man who has never been
But a few miles outside of his town.
He’s never met, in his 60 some years,
A black, red, yellow or brown.

So the man I know who has never been
But a few miles outside of his town.
Spends a lot of time being petrified
That the “others” are keeping him down.

I feel sad for the man who has never been,
But a few miles outside of his town.
He just might have been a much happier man
And not someone who only can frown.

And if the man I know who has never been
But a few miles outside of his town.
Would sit down and read a few books now and then
He might finally look up and not down.

  • Jim Hagarty 2017

Author: Jim Hagarty

I am a 72-year-old retired journalist, busy recovering from a lifelong career as an unretired journalist. This year marks a half century of my scratching out little fables about life. My interests include genealogy, humour and music. I live in a little blue shack in Canada and spend most of my time trying to stay out of trouble. I am not that good at it. I also spent years teaching journalism. Poor state of journalism today: My fault. I have a family I don't deserve, a dog that adores me, and two cars the junk yard refuses to accept. My prized possessions include my old guitar and a razor my Dad gave me when I was 14 and which I still use when I bother to shave. Oh, and my great-great-grandfather's blackthorn stick he brought from Ireland in the 1850s. I have only one opinion but it is a good one: People take too many showers.