It’s time to go Grandad.

The light that shines through heavenly fire,
Was brighter than the devil’s eyes that day,
So Grandad locked his door tight with chains and wood.
“I’m not ready to leave” he shouted from his tiny room.

I was born in this house, right there on that floor.
My mother couldn’t afford a hospital.
I came out singing the Hallelujah chorus.
I screamed the house down that I had come to this house of pain.

I went to work in the mine at a young age for 2 bob a week.
I never needed much; just one meal a day and a schooner of beer on Sunday.
It was back breaking work but I loved it all.
I loved the work mates. They were like brothers.
They always had a song and a joke at lunch break.

One day I met Patricia. We met at the local barn dance.
I wasn’t much of a dancer but when she took my hand,
I had stars in my eyes.
She said I was a rough diamond but that she would teach me some manners.

We had three kids over the years Jimmy, Peter and  little Valerie.
I’m ashamed to say I wasn’t there much.
I was at work mostly. I still loved them all.
I needed to work two jobs to keep the wolf away from the door.
I guess the wolf came in through the window,
Because Patricia left me for some other guy. Some Sailor boy.
The kids all grew up and left me.
But I’ll not leave this house. I’m not ready yet.

I have looked out through these windows on cold mornings
And I have seen the rising of the Sun.
I have walked through storms and rain and snow,
I will go to my garden and lay in the green grass one more time.
Let the funeral party wait. Let them  hold back their tears.
For I will not leave this house today.