Alone At Last

My mother

Worked all night and every day

To keep the wailing bailiffs at bay

And all just to hear my father say

Can you keep those blessed children away?

All he wanted was to be by himself.

And all we ever heard was him complain

"My bloody horse has gone and lost again."

With a click and a snick of a Biro pen

Which he found on the floor of McKilroy's Den,

A betting shop for itinerant men,

A Killjoy now and way back when.

I don't know now and I didn't know then

How he ever lived with himself.

My childhood hung on the whim of a horse,

Which hardly ever won a race, of course.

Poorer than the poorest church mouse

All ten of us crammed in a three-bed house

Our lives depended on some selfish louse

Only looking out for himself.

"Don't spend your money on some new house

For your wife and kids and their little pet mouse.

Think if you win you'll be a rich man

Place all of your money on 

'Catch If Catch Can.'

It's a real sure thing, I'm convinced it'll win."

Poorly, pale, weak and thin.

This was the life into which I was born

The life of a waif with a look forlorn.

A mother who worked her fingers to the bone,

And a father who thought his work was done.

And all he wanted was to be left alone.

And that's how he died…all on his own.