(Verse 1) He rolls down the lane in a rusted old van, Paint peeling off like a sunburnt plan. With a jingle that echoes through alley and square, The Dingaling Man brings sweetness from air. (Chorus) Ding-a-ling, ding-a-ling, hear that tune? Like a lullaby drifting through a hot afternoon. He’s the king of the cones, the sultan of swirl, With a wink and a whistle for every boy and girl. (Verse 2) He’s got rocket pops, screwballs, and dreams on a stick, A freezer of memories, take your nostalgic pick. He knows every name, every laugh, every cry, And the stories he’s heard could make angels sigh. (Bridge) But when the sun sets and the streets go dim, He hums to the stars, that old frozen hymn. A man with a bell and a heart full of song, Driving through summers that never last long. (Chorus) Ding-a-ling, ding-a-ling, hear that tune? Like a prayer in the hush of a silver-lit moon. He’s the poet of popsicles, bard of the block, With a freezer of hope and a ticking old clock. (Outro) So if you hear music on a warm evening breeze, And the scent of vanilla floats in with the trees, Step out to the curb, coins clutched in your hand— You might just be blessed by the Dingaling Man
