The winter rain at a driving pelt
Did batter the city park
And on a bench sat a city beggar
Far past the hour of dark
He sat and with a mighty shiver
Groaned deep from the outer cold
He continued to have a violent quiver
He hadn't a penny for blankets sold

He tried his best to drift to sleep
On his side he lay
And long afar in waiting
Did he patiently peddle for day
Near his ears
A child had cried
So gladly he gave the shirt off his back
And by morning, he had died