You see them everywhere
These orphans of the feet.
On ev'ry type of highway
On ev'ry kind of street.
You see them in the country
Along a rural lane.
You see them in the city
On streets where kids are playing.
I'd bet if we could trod along
The roads of ancient Rome -
We'd find these little orphans
In evidence, alone.
In Merry and Olde England
On cobblestoned divide
There'd lie our little orphans
They run but they can't hide.
Surely they'd have surfaced
In China long ago.
Amidst the many dynasties
On many dusty roads.
Even in Siberia
Where winter finds its root
Along a trail wrapped up in snow
You'd find a lonely boot.
These orphans are all different
In size, and color, too.
There are sneakers, there are sandals
There are brogans, which are shoes.
There are cowboy boots and biker boots
There are flats and heels that hurt.
There are shoes to skate upon the ice
And shoes to run through dirt.
Shoes like this are what you'll find
On highways ev'rywhere.
They lie discarded, desolate
As if nobody cares.
But I have never figured out
When all is said and done,
There's never two shoes anywhere
There's always only one!
Why this is so, nobody knows
It's a huge conundrum!
There's got to be a reason
Why there's only one.
If each could tell its story
'Bout living on the street;
You'd soon be feeling sorry for
These orphans of the feet.
© 2008 by Jacob Anson; 2006 by Ansohn
Image copyright © 2008 by Jacob Anson and its licensors. All rights reserved.
These orphans of the feet.
On ev'ry type of highway
On ev'ry kind of street.
You see them in the country
Along a rural lane.
You see them in the city
On streets where kids are playing.
I'd bet if we could trod along
The roads of ancient Rome -
We'd find these little orphans
In evidence, alone.
In Merry and Olde England
On cobblestoned divide
There'd lie our little orphans
They run but they can't hide.
Surely they'd have surfaced
In China long ago.
Amidst the many dynasties
On many dusty roads.
Even in Siberia
Where winter finds its root
Along a trail wrapped up in snow
You'd find a lonely boot.
These orphans are all different
In size, and color, too.
There are sneakers, there are sandals
There are brogans, which are shoes.
There are cowboy boots and biker boots
There are flats and heels that hurt.
There are shoes to skate upon the ice
And shoes to run through dirt.
Shoes like this are what you'll find
On highways ev'rywhere.
They lie discarded, desolate
As if nobody cares.
But I have never figured out
When all is said and done,
There's never two shoes anywhere
There's always only one!
Why this is so, nobody knows
It's a huge conundrum!
There's got to be a reason
Why there's only one.
If each could tell its story
'Bout living on the street;
You'd soon be feeling sorry for
These orphans of the feet.
© 2008 by Jacob Anson; 2006 by Ansohn
Image copyright © 2008 by Jacob Anson and its licensors. All rights reserved.
