He was getting old and paunchy and his hair was falling fast,
And he sat around the lake,telling stories of the past.
Of a place that he had lost in and the journies that he had done,
In his exploits with his buddies; they were heroes, every one.
And tho’ sometimes, to his neighbors, his tales became a joke,
All his buddies listened, for they knew where of he spoke.
But we’ll hear his tales no longer for old nomad has passed away,
And the world’s a little poorer, for a traveller died today.
He will not be mourned by many, just his children and his wife,
For he lived an ordinary and quite life.
Held a job and raised a family, quietly going his own way,
And the world won’t note his passing, though a traveller died today .
He was just a common travellers and his journals are growing thin,
But his presence should remind us we may need his like again.
If we cannot do him honor while he’s here to hear the praise,
Then at least let’s give him homage at the ending of his days.
Perhaps just a simple headline in a paper that would say,
Our Country is in mourning,for a traveller died today.