He was born to a broken family,

So many branches coming from that tree;

One, two, three, four, seven little sprogs,

Single mother; bless her cotton socks.

He had dreams and aspirations

But school brought him no inspiration;

Thursday, Friday night, Saturday night’s the same

But at least he goes out and knows everybody’s name

And all he got was a job in a factory –

                        And some money for the weekends.

Her daddy was a bank robber,

All she needed was a bob or two,

All she had in her pockets was pence

Whilst her daddy was serving a five year sentence.

She used to wink and give boys the eye

But to be fair she didn’t need to try,

Usually one for playing it safe

But this one night she could not wait

And all she got was a little baby -

                        And a pram for the weekends.

©  Keith Arthur