My dad was a miner; could do nothing finer
while wife kept on pleading that mouths needed feeding.
But offspring grew older, so dad became bolder.
From pit work retired, as driver, got hired.
His days though we\'re numbered and sorrow that slumbered
soon woke up and waited; for father was fated
to perish like poet. Before we could know it
his ties he did sever, then drove off forever.
Now mother did smother both sisters and brother
with love, sweet and tender; became our defender!
But I took to thieving, despite I was grieving
a heart full of giving and endless forgiving.
I sold stuff for money, since scratting’s not funny
for kids with no father, with mother, who\'d rather
sip whiskey than water. And there was that daughter!
Who turned up with baby, when mother said maybe
we\'ll move from the city where there is more pity
for life\'s lamest losers, more beggars than choosers.
Mum went there with working, while I stayed with shirking;
could do nothing finer, since death of the miner.