Hopes of a Huckster...

 

 I am a peddler, I peddle around

As a hawker as you say

I am a local, sells for a pound

Earn in pennies per day

I am a soul who can be found

On every street, I suppose

To call you mate, I sing aloud

And you'll never find me close

Seasons arrive and stay, then leave

I observe all at a verge

Sales undone, brings huge tension, I grieve

but then a new day, and hopes emerge

I am a wanderer with a thirst for cash

To towns and towns, I go

Enough food I find in the trash

To feed me and my household

I desire to hold and build someday

Some assets of my own

But I am a human, though a stray

So presently, I hope you soften your tone :)