Father's Song | Will Renshaw

My father came home from work one day,

I asked him to play me a song,

He whipped out his scruffy oak wood strings,

And he said “Son, come with me and sing along.”

The rain kicked the tin bucket down the street,

My father in boots tapped along,

The beat came rushing and my heart was pumping,

The rain’s where my cold soul belongs,

He sang, “Hayley worked the long hours,

Saul cracked the glass at the pub,

Teddy wore suits and he spoke in cahoots,

Life’s too short to plod along.”

My father began to tune his guitar,

That sounded like pig’s in a troth,

My ears were focused on different things,

Like the drops of bliss from above,

He said, “Your daddy’s too old to work these days,

At some point you’ll need to step up,”

That’s all boring so I looked away,

I found my peace with the fog,

I saw a sparkle of shining light,

It looked like the spot on the stage,

I reached out to grab it but I was pulled back elastic,

I heard a man cry like the rain,

The boots came loose and he went back bruised,

My father just tripped and he fell,

I called for help like a dog I yelped,

The water bounced off his crooked nose,

Nobody came and the fog ran away,

My father looked cold as he lay,

He said, “one more time, I’ll sing more this time,”

He coughed and the clouds stood a’halt.

“Me and marge used to dance together,

Waltz and we’d jive and we laughed together,

One thing that pulled us together forever,

Was the rain that poured all night long,

Remember this son, never forget this son,

Wear your wellies in the rain,”

One last breath so I looked up again,

And swallowed one final drop.