He's the guest that nobody talks to,
Always standing just by the door,
Invited because he seems lonely,
An acquaintance, he's nothing more.
The hosts do their best to involve him
But shyness stutters his speech
So he smiles at the middle distance,
Seems aloof, just out of reach.
At the end of the evening he leaves
And no-one watches him go;
He was asked to make up the numbers
But nobody wanted to know.
"He's an intersting man," say the hosts,
"It's a pity that he's so deaf -
He's written some wonderful music."
The other guests draw in their breath ... "