Rushin’ through my precious life, minutes, hours and days.
Answered ev’ry beck an’ call, head always down to graze.
Thought I had lived hon’rably, but you’re remembered for your deeds.
I’ve led the life of Tomlinson, always two but never me.
Good deeds are rare as hensteeth slip the mind like morning dew.
Bad deeds are ten-a-penny and they stick like gum ‘n’ glue.
I got nothin’ I need to hide, done nothin’ which I could boast.
To all my friends an’ family, I’m already like a ghost.
Now it’s too late to change the past, to wind the tired clock back.
Better think up some good alibi, defence is the best attack.
I only hear a “shudda done”, regrettin’ all I didn’t do,
get ’round to it tomorrow, a know-it-all who never knew.
©6.3.2020 Andrew Robert Chapman
Good deeds are rare as hensteeth and forgotten in a day.
, well read, well bred, well heeled.