Two years and a grandchild ago,
I walked up the aisle,
And
handed my lovely daughter,
Dressed in white and covered in
smiles,
To what I thought was an upstanding man.
Now I am horrified to find,
That all that was a disguise
And
that you, Mister, beat your wife,
And my grandchild now has that
to spoil his life,
Black Eyes and Bruises for your
wife,
Football, friends and plenty of booze for you
And
nothing but misery for your child.
Mister, you may think you are hard,
But you're nothing but a
bully,
To beat on your wife.
Pull up your socks and buck up
your ideas,
Or I'll have my daughter back,
And I will take
the child
And you can got to hell.
Oh, why didn't you tell me, my child,
Oh why didn't you
say
For no matter what you thought I'd say,
You are still
my child.
Posted: 2007-06-25 22:28:02