theprodigalson |
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 Fed, forgiven and known again, Claimed by bone of my bone again And cheered by flesh of my flesh. The fatted calf is dressed for me, But the husks have greater rest for me, I think my pigs will be best for me, So I`m off to the Yards afresh. The bread that is three parts chaff to wheat, But glory be ! - there`s a laugh to it, Which isn`t the case when we dine. Till I want to go out and swear. And, in spite of the butler`s gravity,I know that the servants have it I Am a monster of moral depravity, And I`m damned if I think it`s fair ! On riotous living, so I did, But there`s nothing on record to show I did Worse than my betters have done. They talk of the money I spent out there - They hint at the pace that I went out there - But they all forget I was sent out there Alone as a rich man`s son. So I was a mark for plunder at once, And lost my cash (can you wonder ?) at once, But I didn`t give up and knock under at once, I worked in the Yards for a spell, Where I spent my nights and my dayswith hogs. And shared their milk and maize with hogs, Till,I guess, Ihave learnedwhat pays withhogs And - I have that knowledge to sell ! So back I go to my jobagain, Not so easy to rob again, Orquite so ready to sobagain On any neck that`s around. I`m leaving, Pater. Good-bye to you ! God bless you, Mater! I`ll write to you ! I wouldn`t be impolite to you, But, Brother, you are a hound !  |
