John Morony Poets
Where I'm From.
The summers are hot
Temper forever boiling like a pot
The whistle screams like the screaming from home
When a drunken husband has lost the plot
In the valley of a thouseand single mothers,
All money is beer money,
When the money is gone
Drunken tempers form
Then comes the rain, we're in for a storm
The storm settles
A new day begins
The call of Dundee St wars at the courtroom
And nobody wins.
Every house had the same noise at night
Every day as a child was torment and fight,
Walking to the shop was a battle in its own right,
I had to be game and learn how to fight
The valley of broken homes
That's where I am from.