The man was huddled in the shop doorway,
His face was pale and thin.
Clutching a newspaper, and remains of a sandwich,
He'd retrieved from the bus station bin.
The weather changed, it started to sleet,
This unfortunate man, had nowhere to sleep.
He rolled up the paper to lay down his head,
But sadly by morning the poor man was dead.
Where was the charity, where was man's love?
Now he's no need for either, he's residing with God.
We should feel guilty, we should be ashamed.
No-one deserves to die in that way.
I'll remember that man when I'm going to moan,
I'm one of the lucky ones, I've got a home. By Mrs P Mann
Settle Street, Gt Lever
Previous news story
Converted for the new archive on 14 July 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.
Comments: Our rules
We want our comments to be a lively and valuable part of our community - a place where readers can debate and engage with the most important local issues. The ability to comment on our stories is a privilege, not a right, however, and that privilege may be withdrawn if it is abused or misused.
Please report any comments that break our rules.
Read the rules hereComments are closed on this article