Would you help me if I asked you?
Would you really help me out?
Or would you scowl and hurry by,
This worthless, idle lout?

If I told you of my heart-ache,
Would you stop and talk a while?
Or would I see you nod and give,
A patronising smile?

When you place your Sunday tribute,
Upon the offertory tray,
Do you feel you’ve done your duty
To God and man that day?

Or will you help me should I ask you?
Will you trust me if I tell,
Of how this weak man’s courage failed
And how from grace I fell?

I once, like you, had dignity
And could hold my head up high
I was loved and was respected,
Like any other guy.

But that was me of yesterday.
Now this is what you meet,
A shabby, broken, beggar man,
Searching bins for scraps to eat.

Would you linger if I asked you?
And listen for a spell,
To hear what brought me to this state?
—
Pass friend! I’ll never tell.