Beggars Can't be Boozers

Times are hard. We have a beggar installed outside each of our supermarkets these days. Each one of them appears to have his patch and of course, he'll have a dog. Except for the old Romanian woman at the Co-op who looks like she just ate hers. 

I've seen well-meaning people come out of the shop with a piece of meat saved for the hound (and a scowl for its master). It's not easy being a beggar, sitting on your arse for hours each day and wearing a forlorn expression. Not easy, I say, especially with the new hard-to-climb-into dustbins we now have serving our community. 

So, to be a beggar, un pordiosero, the first thing you will need is a friendly looking dog; and the second thing is of course a good stomach. 

And remember, many of us who might walk past with our nose in the air are just a paycheck or a pension-payment away...

Money doesn’t take you far,
A shop, a store, a mart, a bar,

So looking for the cheapest link
I chose a shop to buy a drink

My pocket full I entered in.
To buy a jug of Spanish gin

I picked a brand I didn’t know
It cost the lot, I turned to go

My bottle in a plastic sack
I toddled out, my mind turned black.

I left that market in a fog
And saw a beggar with his dog

The man was holding out a cup
I tipped my jug and filled it up

Can I share it, asked the mooch.
Of course you can’t – it’s for the pooch. 

 

Spanish Shilling October 2010