the man who runs the donkey rides

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.


I dream of ghosts that haunt

Ladies in voluminous white

And gentlemen ready to offer

A hand to dance or take in marriage.

I dream that one day you can be

The romance that another girl will wish

When she wanders through

The abbey’s haunted walls

Noose in hand, and ready to take

A final leap for love.