Can'tLiveHere©2023TonyFallon423

 Can'tLiveHere©2023TonyFallon423

Once upon a time when I was younger and single

I lived in digs with others in the town of Dingle

There were only three of us that meant the rent wasn't bad

But alas there was only one bathroom and that was sad

Two guys and a girl that made up our little trio

Maryanne and I and a man from Cork man named Leo

Some wee problems arose because of our working hours

And when it was ok to wash hair and take showers

Maryann made sure we kept the place neat and tidy

And collected the rent from us two every Friday

Swearing was never allowed we had to behave

And we would have to clean up the sink after a shave

We were not expected to be living like a monk

But when we got home at night we'd better not be drunk

We often heard complaints from her about how she slaved

Especially any time the toilet seat was raised

It did not take too much to get her temper going

And she was no way averse at all to throwing

Often yolks and eggshells hung for seconds on the wall

Then in frustration she'd sit on the sofa and bawl

Con and I had responsibility and duty

She could cook and she always had a pot of brewed tea

She could cook like my mother we always had great meals

You could hear her coming by the clicking of her heels

No bare chests allowed any time or place nor bare feet

Sofa's were not for meals at the table you had to eat

Dirty clothes were not supposed to be hung on the floor

And when peeing or pooping you closed the bathroom door

You can't do this you can not do that she was so strict

It was good training for marriage but so much conflict

I regretted the agreement we had in advance

That amongst the three of us there would be no romance

After nine months passed my admiration for her warmed

And I liked myself better I think I was transformed

When I admitted my ardor there was no great shock

But she said I'd have to sell the little farm in Knock

The problem was the Cork man he was cramping my style

When I told him he'd have to move he became hostile

He reminded me of our pact I would not be cowed

I told him I considered three too  much of a crowd

I guess I acted badly I was full of conceit

My once best friend turned on me I wound up on the street

The father who was against our living condition

Boldly dug in his heels and would not give permission.

I often wonder as I toil daily in New York.

If there was some nasty gossip from the chap from Cork