The man on the corner plays his guitar
The passers-by listen as he plays them his song.
They don't recognize the chords
But they like the rhythm of the music.
A few stop on their way and listen
As he plucks them a melody on the strings.

As his playing progresses he breaks a string.
The broken ends hang from the guitar.
The people who stopped to listen
Now leave as he changes it for the next song.
When it is replaced he keeps playing his music
His fingers on the string forming the chords.

He doesn't know very many chords
But as his fingers move from string to string
And with his small knowledge he makes music,
Those who stop to hear his guitar
Do not know that this is his only song.
They would only know if they stopped long to listen.

But no one stops long to listen
To his ever-repeating chords.
No one waits for the end of the song
As over and over he plays the same strings.
No one knows the man with his guitar
Doesn't even know how to read music.

But so long has he practiced this music
That to anybody listening
He sounds as if he is a masterful guitarist.
As long as he plays those four chords,
Fingers moving deftly over the strings,
He will be appreciated for his only song.

For a while now he has been playing his song
And some have listened too long to his music.
Before they realize his short coming he breaks another string
And takes long to replace it, and those listening
Grow tired of the lack of his chords
And leave. When they are gone he picks up his guitar

And on his guitar he again plays his song,
The chords he has practiced so long, his well-rehearsed music.
He hopes no one stops long to listen because he is running low on strings.