My dad loved public houses
Mum would scream and shout
She used to hide his trousers
To stop him going out
One day he needed strong red wine
But couldn’t find his trews
He borrowed mine, I was only nine
So he could get his brews
My friends were at my party
Outdoors in the sun
They were - quite arty-farty
But we were having fun
There was a gasp and then I saw
A sight I won’t forget
Dad was standing at the door
In pink bell bottom keks
I was his only daughter
And he had let me down
My friends in gales of laughter
Thought we had paid a clown!
My trousers snugly on his hips
But swinging round his knees
He did a pair of backward flips
Upon the trampoline
Well… from the age of thirty
He never drank again
My dad had gone cold turkey
And caused us no more pain
copyright Victoria George
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
My trousers snugly on his hips But swinging round his knees, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , I like this line, , , , , great poem, , , Good writing.........................thanks a lot.10/10