Thomas Golding

(8th Oct 1932 / Lower Hutt. Wellington. New Zealand)

This House Is Not A Home

Policemen kindly stay away
Unless of course you wish to pay.
Hey ho mother runs a knocking shop.

The girls are bravely standing to
But not long for the likes of you.
Hey ho mother runs a house.

Horizontal is the game
But the cost may cause you strain
Hey ho mother makes the rules.

Politician lawyer priest
True the nature of the beast.
Hey ho mother runs them through.

They scorn your hide but not your money
And still you come like flies to honey.
Hey ho mother knows the score.

The house tom cat is not entire
The only male who sleeps around this open fire.
Hey ho mother cures all pain.

Management types prefer the lash
The ladies take their lumps in cash.
Hey ho mother’s watching you.

Customers needn’t watch the door
Only the girls bother the law.
Hey ho mother knows the score.

Hang your clothes up in the closet
But don’t forget to bring your wallet.
Hey ho mother drinks her tea.

Love them now or love them never
Cash or credit card gets it together.
Hey ho mother washes the cups.

Lighter by far now your hoard
Ladies try not to show you’re bored.
Hey ho mother feeds the cat.

Leave to call another day
If you’re lucky you won’t hear what they say.
Hey ho mother shuts the door.

Submitted: Monday, June 08, 2009

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