FRIDAY NIGHTS
Dolly-mixture daddy
With our Friday-night treats
With your world-weary eyes
And your sweet, beery breath
...
“Hello Mary dear”, you call down the hall
“And how are you my love?”
As you lay your clumsy hand
On our tired mum’s back
Eggs are fried briskly, bacon flipped
But there’s tension in her moves
Our dad’s a little silly
Our mum is not
Mum’s just tired with her life’s lot!
Sit down soppy daddy
As we lie on our bellies
Sit down dad as we squabble over sweets
Sit down Bill here’s your tray - Your Friday fry-up
And here’s your Daddie's sauce
At the end of the week.
Meg Marsden copyright
With our Friday-night treats
With your world-weary eyes
And your sweet, beery breath
...
“Hello Mary dear”, you call down the hall
“And how are you my love?”
As you lay your clumsy hand
On our tired mum’s back
Eggs are fried briskly, bacon flipped
But there’s tension in her moves
Our dad’s a little silly
Our mum is not
Mum’s just tired with her life’s lot!
Sit down soppy daddy
As we lie on our bellies
Sit down dad as we squabble over sweets
Sit down Bill here’s your tray - Your Friday fry-up
And here’s your Daddie's sauce
At the end of the week.
Meg Marsden copyright
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