I meet them in all sorts of places
The park, shopping centre and street
I know them and yet they seem strangers
The people I'd rather not meet.

We seem to share little in common
To them I have little to say
With just a brief greeting in passing
Words such as to you a good day

Of me I know they feel the same way
In thinking we seem far apart
Yet they in their own ways good people
Hard working and so kind of heart.

They look on me as a strange person
A fellow who pens doggerel
One without a god for to pray to
To them I'm just an infidel.

I meet them in all sorts of places
In the pub and park and on the street
Though 'twould seem I share little in common
With the people I'd not rather meet.

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