Maladjusted

When the sh*t hits the fan and the plates hit the walls And Mummy’s voice screeches, “You ain’t got the balls” The sound of wood splintering leaves kids with hunches That once again Daddy ain’t pulling his punches At least it was wood this time - unlike before When what Daddy fractured was not just a door And Daddy’s voice shouts, ‘I work all that I’m able but when I come home, I want food on the table!” Upstairs, the children cannot speak their fears Three kids on their beds with their hands on their ears While five year old Lucy is wiping her tears And Tommy chants ‘La La’ to drown what he hears But ten year old Gerry, wise, for a young lad Has a best friend with a Saturday Dad He seems to get by, and he states with a sigh “I get to go places… and Mum doesn’t cry.” With siblings sent ‘up’ with no food in their tummy Because Daddy had to, “Have words with your Mummy.” Gerry, would get them the food they were lacking He wasn’t surprised to find Daddy was packing He’d taken a chance when the rows turned to silence Which had to be better than out and out violence Daddy said, “Don’t creep about like a mouse… from now on, Son… you are the man of the house.” Lucy was young and she idolised Dad Tommy was older and, for a while, bad But Gerry now charged with his own father’s plan At just ten years old… became a young man And with Daddy gone to a town far away Gerry stayed home till his mum had gone grey But one day she had a new man on her hand And Gerry was happy to make his own stand Twas eighteen months later this very deep thinker Let a girl get to him, hook, line and sinker He hugged her and kissed her the day she miscarried Yet he and the woman he loved… never married