Not Coming Home

So you,re not coming home for Christmas son, of course I understand. Your mother tells me you are busy, away in that other land. She says you have exams to sit, and essays still to write. And that your head is in the books, all day and half the night. Well, your granny is in a home you know, she swears this year,s her last, And she would love to see your face again, but her eyesight is failing fast. She talks about you every day, and then each night in prayer She lifts you up before the Lord, and leaves you in His care. Auld Rover misses you the most, for every day at four He leaves the basket by the fire, and sits behind the door. Just like he used to do when you came home from school, But he doesent understand, isnt he the silly fool? Call your mother at Christmas son, for that would make her day. Its quiet as the grave round here, ever since you went away. I have painted the bedroom for you son, and your mother has bought new linen, We hope to see you at Easter time, if we are still alive and sinning. Your Da.