Gypsy King, not

On line 9
There are all kinds of begging musicians
Romany for most
Some of them are good
They play old French classics
That only they know
How to play anymore
But today there was an old wino, white
With a dirty one-string violin that he
Seemingly had found in the trash
He looked despondent
He tried to play
It was like hearing a saw
It jolted everyone in the car
The man was wobbly acting
The sound was excruciating
I just wished he had a home
To go to
So that he’d stop
He fell
Remained there, helpless
Sawing had stopped
At last

Ellar Wise

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