His clothes, a bit shabby,
   He has holes in his shoes.
         The hat on his head
    Looks downright abused.

     He whistles an old tune,
  Thought he'd set for a spell,
   Has a pocketful of pennies
         For the wishin' well,

      He sits on a park bench
    With that gleam in his eye,
        Just thinkin' up wishes
          His pennies can buy.

      When his pocket is empty
        He looks quite content,
With the dreams he's purchased
         For just a few cents.

         We can't live on wishes
              Or pie-in-the-sky,
   But, that vagabond dreamer
     Always seems to get by.