In his early seventies his hair silvery gray
by Francis Duggan
I meet Whistling Tom in the park every day
When he smiles and says hi the gap in his teeth show
He walks in all weather sun, rain, hail or snow.
He does know the air of many an old song
And he is always whistling as he walks along
His beautiful whistling brings joy to the day
A happy old bloke in his own cheerful way.
He lives in a one bedroom Council flat at an unfashionable address
But poverty for him not a barrier to happiness
He whistles and sings he is happy and kind
A beautiful man with a beautiful mind.
A stranger to financial wealth and renown
Yet he is the happiest person in town
He is happy with his life he hasn't a care
But people like him as always are rare.
In the Townpark every evening he is one I do see
And he never fails for to acknowledge me
A stranger to wealth and a stranger to fame
But he whistles and sings Whistling Tom his nickname.