There he stood by the road.
I was young, I didn't pick up strange hitch-hikers,
But my sister did.
She was old at 25 and in the army so she could look after herself.
We met outside the festival entrance;
"It's you!" I thought, feeling a bit selfish,
Since I had driven past him.
He was alone.
It seemed natural for him to camp next to us
And hang out; and it was all good.
On the last day we couldn't leave him there;
So I took him home.
He gave me a pot of honey to say thank you.
I can't remember now whether he gave me his address, or I gave him mine.