Thomas Trenton

Hobo men with sparkling souls
Were sitting in the winter cold,
Under the bridge on dirty floor,
And feeling absolutely low.

Bottle of gin in their hands,
True friends sitting beside,
Stars above their heads,
Talks about odds and ends.

Thomas Trenton is the oldest
And the wisest of them all.
He can easily describe
All his life in pass by time.

He can speak for hours
About the down towns,
Where he spent his days
The finest of whole existence.

Thomas starts to tell the story.
He begins with words of glory
To the woman whom he loved
And who broke his poor heart.

Her name was Susanne by the birth,
But people called her “Loaf”.
She spent all days in doing nothing,
Just hanging here and there and chatting.

This may sound as a story of great love,
But it is not the one of that kind.
This is a story of great sorrow,
This begot even greater horror.

So Thomas Trenton got acquainted
With Miss Susanne Baker-Swanton.
It wasn’t love, it was a simple calculation.
Not to ruin the reputation.

One sunny Sunday in July,
Was committed an awful crime.
Miss Trenton, in girlhood Swanton,
Was found dead in her own bedroom.

It was Sir Trenton, who had done it.
His dear wife start messing around
With paper boy, who came to see her
When Thomas was all day at work.

So one sunny Sunday in July,
The latter spoiled his own life.
He moved away from this cursed place,
And knocked about the world’s lace.

Same hobo men with sparkling souls
Were sitting in the winter cold,
And Thomas Trenton still belonged
To the masses of the world.