MY SON

He was born early with a will to survive
It hurt like hell but then I was still alive
All wrinkled and hairy with a frown on his face
He ****** his thumb and kept up with the pace

The nights were easy and the days were fun
Til he got to his feet and learnt  how to run
We went through the grazes the cuts and stitches
The well worn holes in the knees of his britches

From a shy little boy he turned into a tyrant
Stamping his feet and demanding attention
He chucked those wobblies and copped the strap
The next thing you knew he was up on the lap

He tried every mean trick to get his own way
And always had too much to say for his age
He was up front and honest as far as that goes
But whinging and whining and full of the woes

He reached his teens with a quiet sort of rumble
Loved his football and the rough and tumble
He'd never once given me any real grief or pain
But then he turned sixteen and I near went insane

As from then he learnt how to drive a car
Taking out girls and fronting up to the bars
The sleepless nights then were never ending
The rules I set he was forever bending

He's left home now, grown into a man
Holds down a job and sings with a band
There are times I still see the little boy
When I ask him to sing and he goes all coy

If I dare to question a decision he makes
Or pry into personal steps he may take
So I take a back seat and wait till he calls
And hope he doesn't take any hard falls