And if it snowed and snow covered the drive
he took a spade and tossed it to one side.
And always tucked his daughter up at night
And slippered her the one time that she lied.
And every week he tipped up half his wage.
And what he didn't spend each week he saved.
And praised his wife for every meal she made.
And once, for laughing, punched her in the face.

And for his mum he hired a private nurse.
And every Sunday taxied her to church.
And he blubbed when she went from bad to worse.
And twice he lifted ten quid from her purse.

Here's how they rated him when they looked back:
sometimes he did this, sometimes he did that.

by Simon Armitage

Comments (12)

Very fine poem. memories, thank u.
we all be guilty of living too much - good insight
Excellent presentation. Congratulation for this poem as poem of the day.
How complex we are as human beings. Not so easy to simplistically categorize. The same man who steals from his own mother can't control his own tears at her funeral, and all of us are that man in some way. Powerful and deep truth in this relatively harmless appearing poem.
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