The Man At The Gate

by William

He’s the man at the gate

He always stands so straight

He doesn’t try to relate

He’s the man at the gate

 

Entry is restricted to just a few

He can usually tell at first view

His intercom crackles into the night

He’s always at the gate from first light

 

He’s the man at the gate

He is not friendly; he does not hate

He will speak in words that relate

Whatever you do, try not to debate

 

He’s the man at the gate

He doesn’t want you to wait

He does not like the rain

It messes with his brain

 

He’s the man at the gate

He knows his ultimate fate

Too much rain he really does hate

A spot of oil; now that would be great

 

He’s the man at the gate

His model will soon be out of date

His face is slowly starting to rust

His body will soon be

A pile of shimmering dust

 

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