The Hame That A Miss Maist ©
(Perhaps a song, perhaps a promise.)
Danny Reynolds
Dalton in Furness, England
2005
Fur aw the times he’d sit an greet
an wish fur somewhere else
the bagged up dragged up breeding grun
which noo, on his face tells
a million tales o torrid times
the torment o the wains
noo written o’er his nose an cheeks
in wrinkles bags an’ spider veins
“The hame that A miss maist and wish
tay see before A’m deed
is no the hame that crumbles noo
but stands as was inside ma heid”
Gie keen tay mind the best o days
And wipe clean aw the dross
Tay whitewash, whitewash as ye choose
Ur else be at a loss
In hope against the highest hope
That things be better noo.
It’s that or waste yer dreamin on
The things ye didnay really do.
“The hame that A miss maist and wish
tay see before A’m deed
is no the hame that crumbles noo
but stands as was inside ma heid”
“An if the truth shood interrupt
Ma daft nostalgic trance
An fur a minute sanity
Restores me tay the dance.
The dance o life where music plays
where e’er ye care tay listen
Wi open eyes, whit a surpise!
Tay see joost whit A’m missin’”
“The hame that A miss maist and wish
tay see before A’m killed
is no the hame that crumbles noo
but the wan A’ve yit tay build”
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