Apologies for misty lettering.
There once was a great Depression,
You've heard of it, no doubt,
When the banking system went berserk,
And the world went up the spout.
In America there were hobos,
(They'd be tramps in the U.K.),
When men scoured the villages and towns
For just the most meagre pay.
They roamed the countryside for jobs,
Visiting the farms
For casual work of the meanest kind,
Or even, simply, alms.
And when a hobo left a place
He left some signs behind;
Was this a good place to find a bed,
Was the farmer, here, unkind?
Sometimes they wrote on paper
Sometimes they wrote with chalk!
They scratched their messages upon the road
Where future men would walk.
They went right back to Egyptian times,
Although they didn't know it;
Whatever the message to be sent
A little sketch would show it.
Was shown by these humble men;
Let's hope that, in the future,
These signs are never used again.
A baby born in America;
A Great-Grandpa from the UK,
Who's on vacation in Australia!
Introduced the modern way!
An email crosses the distance!
A click makes the precious link!
A twenty-first century relationship!
Gorgeous, don't you think?