by JoAnne Windsinger

Created on: July 19, 2011

 

Everyone called him Happy, 

For many years he stood on the corner. 

Near Sibley’s, a prized music spot

He played the trumpet 

Winning souls for the Salvation Army.

People passing by paused,

To see the old man smile and laugh,

When they tossed coins into his open case.

“Thank you so much, you make me Happy.”

The trumpet whispered and shouted,

Merry Christmas songs,

Strong and clear, echoing through the streets,

Crowds listened and came back to hear,

Happy each and every year.

Last year we had to stop and stare, 

A sharp young man played there, 

Ringing a bell, smiling at none, 

In Happy’s prized music spot.

Happy joined that blessed angel band, 

Playing and singing with the saints.

Archangels adding melodious strains, 

All of them God’s musicians.

We will see Happy again some day,

And proudly tell one and all,

We were there when,

Happy played the trumpet, 

On a cold winter’s day, 

On the corner near Sibley’s, 

That prized music spot.

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