When i was a young boy. My Father did ask me. When you grow up to be a man. What do you want to be. Would you like to be a Doctor. Or a sailor on the sea. A Fireman or or a Baker. Or a Banker just like me. Maybe you want to be an Astronaut. Or even a famous Cook. A Scientist or an Author. And one day write a book. With that i sat upon his knee. Looked up and then i cried. No Dad! a Tramp with a trolley. A Tramp with a trolley i replied. My Father just looked down at me. And pulled me to him with his hand. He said Son that is not a proper job. One day you will understand. Well i started out a Banker. As wealthy as can be. With a Mercedes car,lovely house. And a perfect family. Well things dont work out as they might. And i gambled the nights away. And drank away my beautiful wife. And perfect family. So here i stand with my trolley. And i am as happy as can be. Because when i was a young boy. This is what i wanted to be.
