The Old Loner

One little evening, of no great import,
My friend and I wandered the street.
Where we stumbled upon, not so far along
A pub where by luck we did meet.

A quiet old loner, sitting all sombre,
Minding his own with his brew.
This quiet old loner, summoned us over
After we said ‘How are you?’

We told him our names, along with our trades,
He stated his name and trade too.
This quiet old loner, became Sergeant Jonah,
When we asked, ‘What did you do?’

My friend and I listened, and laughed with the loner,
As he was recounting old tales.
We saw in his eyes, a cheerful surprise,
As we ordered in three more ales.

His words were wise, and filled with zest,
His laugh felt freed from a cage.
Chanting old songs, his voice so strong,
That we had forgotten his age.

We said our farewells, he wished us safe home,
When time came along to retire.
Now Sergeant Jonah, was not an old loner,
But a friend we could only admire.