They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.
But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another’s throats.
Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don’t have any kids yourself.
I’ve been a bit distracted on this here blog as we’ve been dealing with the death of my father in law. My father in law with the dry sense of humour, who loved my roasted potatoes and who would never say no to taking home some of my homemade cakes. It’s been tough but I feel better in the knowledge that he went quick and he wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.
It was nice knowing you Bill. I only regret I didn’t know you longer.