Hallelujah, I'm a bum

Don't ask me why, but that song's been in my head for most of the day. It may have arrived in a dream last night, I don't know.

But because I'm on my own for supper, the 100-year-old tune must have played out some influence on me, as I decided on a tin of beans.

I didn't cook 'em in the tin over a campfire, the way a hobo might have, I poured them into a pot on the stove and added a whack of molasses. With toast, and a tomato plucked from the garden, they made a supper fit for a queen -- or at least a meal that was plenty good for me.