Home To Roost Poem by David Lewis Paget

The mornings were cold and dreary when
We used to meet at the Kirk,
And you would be sad and teary on
The blustery days to work,
I'd ask you why you were sad and drawn
But you usually pulled a face,
And knowing you, it was him again,
Your husband, what a disgrace!

I never could understand how you
Had chosen him over me,
He wouldn't work in an iron lung
But had a ‘need to be free.'
I knew he wouldn't look after you
But you were blind as a bat,
You didn't even react when you
Had caught him, kicking your cat.

I knew that he had a violent side,
You said that it wasn't true,
‘He's always so warm and loving.'
‘Yes, ' I said, 'till he turns on you.'
But nevertheless you married him
And it's been now almost a year,
Whenever we make our way to work
You're never without a tear.

I cornered him in a midnight bar
He was more than a little drunk,
I said that he'd better treat you fair
And called him a low-life skunk,
He took a swing and I laid him out
Now you're never to talk to me,
I see you now and you look away
So our friendship's not to be.

On Monday, you had a broken cheek
And wore make-up on that eye,
I took you down to the hospital
And I watched you sit and cry,
I swore by God I would get revenge
While he drank at the local bar,
I took some snips and a couple of nips
As I doctored up his car.

Now God in heaven forgive me
Though I did what I had to do,
I need you so to believe me for
I'd not meant to injure you,
You met him there at the bar that night
As my heart was in my mouth,
And climbed aboard, and you hit the road
On the highway, headed south.

I followed some way behind you, and
I really had the shakes,
The oncoming lights would blind you
Then I saw him hit the brakes,
He ran off the road and hit the tree
And you both went through the screen,
I've never seen so much blood before
And I knew I'd lost my dream.

I'm standing beside your coffin in
That tiny little Kirk,
The one where we met on Sundays, and
Before we went to work,
No matter how violent he had been
I'd played too fast and loose,
And though he was dead, I knew in my head,
Our sins had come home to roost.

12 April 2017