He piped the Tunes of Glory

As he stood on the street

A badged para beret

Upturned at his feet, 

In full Highland dress

With his stickert kilt

Twitching in the breeze 

As he played a lively lilt.

Something in his dress

Just wasn’t quite right;

I really didn’t spot it

On first sight.

From the medals on his chest 

He was one hundred years old,

He must have bought on Ebay

Where replicas are sold.

I asked his service number

A thing no Veteran would forget

Its so well drilled in as 

Part of the military mind set.

He didnt know his unit

Couldn’t give his rank or name

All in all I told him 

He should disappear in shame.

Quite a crowd gathered 

As I told him face to face;

I thought he would brass it out

But he left with poor grace.

I told the assembled people

Why I was so annoyed

And why the credibility of such

As him should be destroyed.

There are Veterans on the streets

Too proud to beg or take

While the public unwittingly give

Hard earned cash to such a fake.

Normally I treat street beggars

With compassion and pity

But I really have no time for

Such a shameless Walter Mitty.