The Hands © Tony Fallon 060418
There were many things to which a woman could turn her hand
If she was born in Ireland and a woman of the land
The hand that rocks the cradle can smack you on the wrist
Or rearrange your teeth or face with an angry fist
The hand that did the cooking and made the sweetest pie
Could be used to punish if you told the smallest lie
Those hands could also put together good thick Irish stew
I think it had more nourishment than a barbecue
The hand that killed the chicken could also toss your hair
And when you cut your knee or elbow wipe away the tear
The hand that fed the turkeys also daily milked the cow
And my mother told me she helped her father with the plow
My father was a builder who used his hands to plaster tanks
And assemble scaffoldings for roofs with uprights and planks
I remember my mother's writing there were few better
I know it was her brain talking but the hand wrote the letter
I remember her written letters coming over the foam
Asking me after twenty five years when I was coming home.
We often exchanged letters her writing was like no others
Among five hundred ones I could still pick out my mothers
The hands were very handy to have, whether right or left
We are ambidextrous so with both we were very fast and deft
So when I see this week's subject I admit I don't understand
What exactly you mean when you say write about the other hand *
If she was born in Ireland and a woman of the land
The hand that rocks the cradle can smack you on the wrist
Or rearrange your teeth or face with an angry fist
The hand that did the cooking and made the sweetest pie
Could be used to punish if you told the smallest lie
Those hands could also put together good thick Irish stew
I think it had more nourishment than a barbecue
The hand that killed the chicken could also toss your hair
And when you cut your knee or elbow wipe away the tear
The hand that fed the turkeys also daily milked the cow
And my mother told me she helped her father with the plow
My father was a builder who used his hands to plaster tanks
And assemble scaffoldings for roofs with uprights and planks
I remember my mother's writing there were few better
I know it was her brain talking but the hand wrote the letter
I remember her written letters coming over the foam
Asking me after twenty five years when I was coming home.
We often exchanged letters her writing was like no others
Among five hundred ones I could still pick out my mothers
The hands were very handy to have, whether right or left
We are ambidextrous so with both we were very fast and deft
So when I see this week's subject I admit I don't understand
What exactly you mean when you say write about the other hand *
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