I don't know his name, the man with the bell.
He rings it while looking me in the eye
And flinging "Merry Christmas" to compel
Me to put money in, and not pass by.
His righteous challenge intimidates me,
I fling his "Merry Christmas" back, don't stop,
Go in, do my business, and, "Bless thee,"
I assault him with when I leave the shop.
But one pale day he looked so sad and cold
And said "One more hour till five o'clock."
Later I gave him a Dove bar and told
Him "Bless you" without impulsion to mock.
And every time now, when he rings his bell,
I drop coins into his donation well.
Copyright © 2012 by Morris Dean