We all called him Danny the Sandman,
from the places where you could find him asleep,
he could sleep on the ground or anywhere he laid down, on your swing, one your porch or beneath your tree.

Now Danny was a boy of adventure,
although little meanness he seldom got in
and all the bad dogs in town would smell of his hand and they would never bark at Danny Boy again.

He could walk up to a sheer rank stranger
and say, "Hi Mister, they call me Dan".
Then he would cast that smile that would just melt
your soul and right then he would make a new friend.

It's been many years since little Danny left us,
you see his folks moved out of these hills
but that smile that he wore as he walked thru my store, will thrill me as long as I live.

Danny Boy!


© Doyle R Quinn I 1965