Taking a walk in my new hometown

Up a country block and around a turn

I met the man, a subject of much gossip

A sheep/pig farmer and scrap metal man

With a fair bit of suspicion, he shook my hand

Said he likes neighbors like me

The ones who mind their own business

And let him do the same

Then with a sideways glance of his bearded face, he looked at me

He decided to trust me with a bit of his story

The son of a poor English shepherd-

Raised in a shack by the tracks

They didn't have much and refused to conform

To the religion professed by their town

Brought to his attention by the cruel words of classmates

He soon realized his status in this world was deemed below the rest

But he learned the value of work and to farm his family's land

At 18 years he went and fought for us all-on 'Hamburger Hill' no less

Now he suffers every day, with PTS syndrome left over from Vietnam

And knowledge that (whether real or imagined) his town is against him and his

So now, reduced to pig farming (he apologizes for the smell)

But the pigs pay the bills, the few sheep left; he has for love of the beast

His human dignity reduced so low, he feels there's no way up

He cannot see through choices made, his lot could be redeemed