Track byThe Pretty Things
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.