Why, Oh Why, Oh Why (Poverty)
Dedicated to All the Poor Children of The World
I saw my old friend Cal today, on the eve before Santa night
He was eight years old and going on more, without his dad in sight.
Dad was in the big bad house, for bootin some snowwhite leaf.
Mickey J lived with Mama Jo, in the houses full of grief.
We went to the door with bags in hand, everyone stared a bit.
They didn’t normally see our kind, without the daylight lit.
We knocked and waited a minute or two, then the door drug open some.
It was Mickey J and Mama Jo, they knew just why we’d come.
We wished them a happy Ho Ho Ho, and filled their little place.
Mickey didn’t say very much at first, he clung to Mama’s embrace.
I wondered if that was what he was like, even without us there.
I wondered what having no Dad had done, to this nothing-for-angel heir.
The mood of the minute soon was turned, when Mickey spied his name
On the package I pulled from the special bag, that carried his namesakes’ fame.
Shoes they were for Mickey no less, Jordans from last year’s run.
He jumped and screamed and carried on, like I’ve never seen it done.
After a while and with Mama’s say, he gave us a hug real tight.
It felt so good for a second or two, but then my heart took flight.
I thought of what a difference there was, tomorrow I’d be with mine.
But Mickey would spend the Santa day, with only that letter line.
You see we brought with us that night, a letter from Mickey’s dad.
He’d written it several weeks before, from his ten by ten square pad.
I watched as Mama read the piece, and Mick gave his grin a try
But then that same old question came, why oh why oh why?