The Pretty Things
Come Home Momma
With stiffened back, dressed in black
Enters doctor pessimism, no one called him
He sips his tea, demands his fee
Offers not one word of comfort to those grieving
Come home Momma, you know the old man is dying
Brothers, sisters, they stand around and they are crying
He takes his hat, snaps it back
On the empty head old Lester thought might save him
He snaps his purse, sends for the hearse
Then he's off to dance beneath bright mirrored ceilings
Come home Momma
It's such a bitch, when the ditch
That they're digging is for your old man to lie in
It grows so cold, when you're told
That old lester's house is sold; the mortgage closing
Come home Momma