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.