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