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Come Back Dad

Stuart Butler

Saturday, December 22nd, 2001

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 Come Back Dad
And hide “British History For Boys”
Underneath my pillow while I’m asleep,
As a surprise coming home present.
Come Back Dad
And bring home Mars Bars and eucalyptus sweets
On Thursday pay nights
For our weekly treat.
Come Back Dad
And tap the beer barrel
At 5a.m. on Christmas Day morning,
Exclaiming “First one of the day.”
Come Back Dad
And put that “How to play Football” book
Under the tree
So I could learn to play just like you.
Come Back Dad
And make your own telly for the cup final again,
But this time it won’t blow up
Before our astonished faces.
Come back Dad,
And watch Remembrance Day
On a brand new bought telly,
And remember your fallen comrades,
With a tear in your eye.
Come Back Dad
And dig the spuds in on a bird-song Good Friday,
Out in the garden with your memories,
And then lead the sing-song round the Wheatsheaf.
Come Back Dad
And sing “Little Nell” with mum again
And let’s hear “The Sheik of Araby” again,
Who else would have Christmas boots on kicking up the dust?
Come Back Dad
And sit me on your knee after the pub again,
And tell me about fighting the Japs in the jungle,
Behind enemy lines,
“Over here Tommy.”
Come Back Dad
And tell me one more time about Dixie Dean and Lawton,
And Matthews, Mortensen and Finney
And how much better they are than today’s lot.
Come Back Dad
And stub out your last fag of the day again
And put it behind your ear together with your pencil,
Senior Service ship-shape fashion for the morning.
Come Back Dad
And study the pools coupon by the firelight again,
While I read “Roy of the Rovers”
And dream of playing for England.
Come Back Dad
And pass the ball to me for just one more time.
Just like you do,
Every day,
And I’ll pass it back to you,
On Christmas Day,
At 5 a.m.,
First one of the day.

Notes

You miss people even more at Christmas, don’t you?

Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/come-back-dad/