Homeless Joe

A random piece I wrote for fun.

There once was a little old man,
who wore on his head a pot and a pan.
He stood upside down,
and smiled with a frown.
He chewed on some thyme,
and said a short rhyme.
This is how it went.
I live in a small tent,
and haven't got a cent.
My friend is a mime,
who knows not the time.
We laugh and we cheer,
for we haven't a fear.
Though our faces are covered in frost,
We've little to be lost.
Cause our lives haven't a cost.
And money is no issue,
When you own only a tissue.
My friend doesn't speak,
If he did I would freak.
Since his silence pays for our food.