Mother Hips

Mother Hips

Mother Hips


You used to be so beautiful 
In your father's house on the hill 
carrying your black bound book 
beyond the world of thrill 
we'd dream of blond-haired children 
who'd run between my legs 
you ordered me an omelet 
but I was not eating eggs 

you gave me 547 days 
to try and find a start 
of the railway line to heaven 
where you arranged to send your heart 
I used to put an X across 
the days that you and I missed 
but I burned my calendar and gone to sleep 
and dreamed of your mother hips 

the next time that I saw you 
your hair had turned to brown 
you yelled at me across the room 
but you did not make a sound 
you were standing with a widower 
who lost his will to try 
and was fooling all the drunken girls 
who came to see him cry 

Late at night through the candle light 
I told you it wasn't just for kicks 
you said, "what?" and we nestled down into your mother hips 

Late at night through the candle light 
I told you it wasn't just for kicks 
you said, "what" and we nestled down into your mother hips