Frank Was Lying Poem by Francie Lynch

They said Frank was lying in his field,
While the milk cows lowed,
And hungry sows squealed.
The midday sun and absorbent dew
Aroused the bachelor close to noon.

They said Frank was lying in a ditch,
His bike was bent, he'd need a stitch,
But there he lay in the early morning,
The lorries roared by,
Frank snored and sighed.

They said Frank was lying in a bed,
When two p.m. was still too soon.
He has missing teeth and window panes,
Lies on a mattress with years of stains.
His papered walls like sun-burnt skin,
Are peeling away and blistering.
His blankets are like stable covers,
His thunder mug has no lid,
Starlings nest inside his house,
Blow flies light where his mother lies.