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He stubbed out his cigarette
And took a last swig of beer
Slumped back in his chair and
Fondly thought of those he held dear

Of friends and acquaintances
Over his long days
Some he had lost track of
After moving away

His life had been spent roaming
From small town to next
And all the miserable places
Between and betwixt

Money hadn't occupied his mind
He wasn't a man of that sort
Nothing he ever wanted
Could have been bought

Being a black sheep from the beginning
Outcast from his birth place
Finding a cosy nook
Is what he longed to trace

Seventy years on this earth
And still searching for home
He didn't want to finish up
Lost and alone

He dozed as he drifted
With his chin heavy on his chest
He was weary and spent
After trying his best

The following day
He was found with chin still to chest
Best just wasn't good enough
He'd never secured that homely nest

One drinking pal was there
As the ropes lowered him deep
A handful of soil
And his refuge was sleep

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