Louisa Lawson

(1848-1920)

Coming Home Poem by Louisa Lawson


Going round the back street.
Through the silent lane,
While the folks at church meet,
Coming home again.
Faded hat and creasy,
Long since it was new.
Tent-fly torn and greasy,
Bluey showing through.
Billy burnt and battered,
Boots all badly burst,
Lace and lace holes shattered,
Trousers at their worst.
Blankets like a riddle,
With a streak of white
All along the middle
When against the light.
Young face lined and sunburnt,
Hair just turning grey,
Many a lesson unlearnt
Since he went away.
But he need not bother
For a bite and sup
And for all the other
Mother'll fix it up.

Submitted: Friday, September 07, 2012

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