Dawn has barely broken

But he pulls his weary bones from the comfort of his bed

Finding his feet

As he rubs his aching head

 

Blurry eyed and tongue tied

He stumbles into the greyness

Of his life

Turning briefly to glimpse

His sleeping wife

As she groans and turns

Onto her side

 

A quick glance 

Tells him there is no time

For romance

The ticking of the clock

A blind rummage

For his socks

 

Tiptoes down the stairs

Remembering to skip over

The squeaky step

Desperate not to disturb

Those still sleeping

In their lairs

 

Quietly gliding open

The end cupboard in the room

-The one that hides the sauce

That keeps him going

Day after

Long, hard day …

It helps to numb the gloom

 

Out into the cold

With whisky in his veins

He rolls into the van

Full with every kind

Of man

Trying desperately

To make their way

In a world that’s hard

And cruel

 

A world that works best

If you know how

To break the rules

But these guys try their best

To be honest

To be good

 

They work an honest job

So their kids eat more

Than gruel

Soon it will be payday

Followed by another grey day

 

He caps his heart with steel

Waxes lyrical into his glass

One day things will be good

He’ll retire back home

End his days strolling

The Emerald Isle

 

He and his molly

Will smell the sweet

Sweet grass of home

He looks forward to her smile

And the hours they will while

 

He looks back over his years

Tries to hold back all his tears

As he lays flowers on her grave

And gives his Molly

One last wave

 

He walks back into the grey

With whiskey in his veins

Shoulders hunched against the cold

He huddles underneath a stone

And prays to god that he will die

And see his Molly smile

Again.