And let me Bake you a cake And when I do Be sure to chew Slowly On all the mistakes To savour what real mums Are made of 'Cos they're not Just sugar and spice They're little nuggets Of worry Mixed up with some Misplaced advice But that's because all mums Are human And sometimes They think they know best So they do what they do And place guidelines for you Which you, in turn Try to resist And sometimes Mums make wrong decisions But not out of malice Nor mood But because life does not Make it easy To do the right thing For ones brood So when next You spend time disgruntled Wishing mum had Given you a break Take time to appreciate The flavours Of the love She whisked into Your cake.
(I wrote this piece as a song but my art lies in writing words not music so, until such time as I come across a someone who can write the music to accompany this...I shall at least share the lyrics with you) OUR SONG
I held his hand
As to me he sang
A song for my ears alone
In the melody
As to make my spirit mourn
For all the things
That could have been
But will never now come to pass For tomorrow he visits the gallows And his song will be our last He held me near And wiped my tears As I looked in his eyes The sadness there Was hard to bear And a hurt burned deep inside A longing for What was before Tyburn's rope hung fast For tomorrow he visits the gallows
And his song will be our last He'd killed a man Who'd done me harm So I would no more dread The violent swish Of a madman's fist Nor his angry, drunken tread To save me from A terrible fate My true loves life would pass For tomorrow he visits the gallows
And his song will be our last As moonlight rests Its silver threads Upon his raven-black hair I take his hand And place it On my belly Wherein there stirs The child blessed by our union But cursed by his poor father's past For tomorrow he visits the gallows
And his song will be our last The jailer stands
With keys in hand Now my love And I must part A candle flickers restlessly As does my fretful heart Through Newgates walls My cries now fall To meet others in their dirge For loved ones soon lost to the gallows And whose song will no more be heard.
Bedevilled is the night And I must feed 'Fore morning's light My cursed state impedes. Moon's silver fingers Point me to the path Where best my urgent need Will fulfil its bloody task. Once there my hungry eyes See her young shape I falter at my choice Her life to take But then the fiend within Insists I must Appease the gluttonous rage Of my infernal lust And so I softly glide Towards the vein That will rescue me From conscience Blocking pain Which lingers still In my dark and cold, dead heart A remnant from my mortal days Long past.