He shuffled towards the car
As I was pumping gas
I knew from the look of him
The question that he'd ask
He stumbled just before he spoke
So to save a little time
I placed my hand inside my coat
Pulled out three quarters and a dime
"Mornin Ol' Timer"
is how he greeted me
I was taken back a bit
I'm only 53
It was blowing bitter cold
Along the Harlem River Drive
Through missing teeth, his garbled speech
"That's a fancy ride"
"Hey Ol' Timer"
is how I greeted him
He glanced at me
"You're right, you win
Today I'm 53"
He was looking in
When the coins hit tin
Saying "thanks"
Much to his Chagrin
"Ol' Timer I detect your dismay
It's not my car I'm a working man
I drive a Chevrolet"
"Ol' Timer, you're all right with me
I'm just a hungry man in this hard land
Lookin for somethin to eat"