ERMAHGERD - I'm putting books in the street library - Episode 43 - hallett cove and marion

In the morning light, he walks alone,
Through the suburbs made of stone,
With a canvas bag and a gentle smile,
He’s been at this a little while.

Books in hand, some old, some new,
Adventure, truth, a point of view.
He leaves them there where readers stray—
Little shelves by streets of clay.

He’s the book man of Adelaide,
Bringing stories, not for trade.
No money asked, no names to say,
Just quiet gifts along the way.
Pages pass from hand to hand,
In street libraries across the land
A whisper of hope, a quiet crusade,
The book man of Adelaide.

He’s seen the joy on people's faces,
they Found his books in distant places.
From novels thick to poems tight,
He seeds the world with silent light.

No fame to chase, no song to sing,
But tales take flight on paper wings.
History, love, and dreamers' prayers—
He hides them all in wooden lairs.

He’s the book man of Adelaide,
Bringing stories, not for trade.
No money asked, no names to say,
Just quiet gifts along the way.
Pages pass from hand to hand,
In street libraries across the land
A whisper of hope, a quiet crusade,
The book man of Adelaide.

Some say he's just a passerby,
But stories never truly die.
They live again in hearts they find,
A tale left for another mind.

He’s the book man of Adelaide,
Bringing light that doesn’t fade.
A paperback, a tale, a thread,
Of all the words we’ve ever said.
By streetlight or the old gum shade,
We thank the book man of Adelaide.