for you my son

lying on his deathbed
he calls for his son
I leave everything to you
you know what must be done
the son looked fondly at his dad
not knowing what to say
from now life would be serious
gone are days of play

gone are the fleeting windows
when you are debt free
gone are the days so idle
of leisure activity
gone are days of fancy cars
and friends that call for tea
to live life like a hermit
in abject poverty

he didn't much like livestock
cows, sheep or horse
so why can't he just sell up
or turn into a golf course
he hears the young lamb bleating
a bottle must be due
a cow is stuck in calving
that needs help to pull through

there is poultry at the back door
trying to get in
the seed corn is delivered
so ploughing must begin
he knows now the carefree youth
and money has sadly gone
scrabbling in the boot rack
to put his wellies on