The Prodigal Son
¶ 1
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The Prodigal Son he upped and left
For many a long, long year.
Leaving a void that could not be filled
Except by a flood of tears.
¶ 2
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Maybe once every Season the Son came back,
But not in a shirt of blue.
No, the jersey he wore on his back such times
Was more of a reddish hue.
¶ 3
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Now the Prodigal Son is returning,
And we’re asked to forgive and forget.
Well, we may, in the fullness of time,
But aren’t ready to do so yet.
¶ 4
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It is he who must first come up with the goods,
Give his all, heart and soul, and sweat blood,
Prove he’s a Blue, a true Blue through and through,
Who’s not simply come back for a laugh.
¶ 5
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Then, only then, we just might turn our thoughts
To slaught’ring a fatted calf.
¶ 6
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13/7/17
Denys E. W. Jones
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