July 9- Prodigal, TN

Benstopfel

My wicked little brother
Is on his way back
He’s squandered his fortune
To spite our old dad
The filthy little wanderer
I can see down the road
Now he’ll get his penance
For the bad life he chose

Oh my brother likes to gamble
But now the debt comes due
As he walks back to the homestead
I chuckle at the fool

My brother, he grew up
A rambunctious kid
He ran off with the neighbours
While I shovelled the shit
He sure got his payback
From the wrong that he did
Last I heard, he’s the smelliest
Of his roommates, the pigs

I see daddy’s crying
So I asked him what’s wrong
“Wrong boy? there’s nothing!”
“My son has come home!”
Struck down by forgiveness
And from deep and dad’s gut
“Let’s throw a party!
We’ll invite everyone!!”

Oh my father’s prone to ramble
But I heard him in his bliss
He said son that the cracks are how
The light comes pouring in