THE WINO

THE WINO

Dad used to hide his wine
In the most unusual places;
He'd hang the bottle carefully
With one of his old shoelaces.

He must have thought
We wouldn't guess he drank,
For he'd act so innocently
Lifting the cover of the toilet tank.

We'd hear the cover being moved,
Although he tried to be quiet;
For Mom would really be upset
And quickly start a wicked riot!

The mattress was another place
He'd tuck away a bottle;
He'd be humming "My Wild Irish Rose";
While drinking at full throttle.

When he had a drink or two
Classic poetry he'd recite,
Of 'the wine we drink and lips kissed';
He was quite a delight!

I don't know what drove him
To drink through day and night;
Perhaps he had unfinished dreams,
And was just too tired to fight.

I only know that I'd give
Anything I have here on earth;
To hear again the old songs
He'd sing for all he was worth.

Oh, some called him a wino,
And they said that he was bad;
But the wine erased the heartaches,
And he was still my dad.

Countrymom
2/17/03