Stevie

My Ma thumps the bar, she crumbles, he might bring his tart, no pine needles nor hay, bursts over these lovers, home or away, he’s crossed the park, lays out his troubles, right from the off, to sail on blue waves, a ship for a mother, that’s what he craves, he's ruined her heart, my girl says I wonder, where did it all start, not far away, love always fumbles, to remain the same, I still hear me Da, laughing like a jug, happy he’s not tarred, hung by rumours.