There’s a man at the pier who runs the donkey rides,
Not many people even notice he exists,
Except the children, that is;
They run toward him arms out wide
Like he’s their favourite uncle, or Santa Claus.
But underneath that quiet, hardened shell
There’s a story to be told,
A daughter that he lost, and a wife
He loved so hard before she turned so sickly pale
And faded with the sunset on the beach.
The man who runs the donkey rides
May go unnoticed by the likes of you and I,
But he has a story, long and winding
And just as worthy as our own.