SAD DAD IN JAIL

SAD DAD IN JAIL

They put me in prison
for the deed I've done,
I killed the drunk driver
Who crippled you, son.

Your mother, my wife,
She died in that wreck.
That's the reason
I broke that man's neck.

His dad was a rich man
who pulled lots of strings,
So well connected
He could do many things.

I live in this hellhole
With all sorts of men;
I'm sure glad most like me
And call me their friend.

The food here is so awful,
I've lost many pounds.
I'd rather feast on the vittles
The guards toss the hounds.

At night we play cards
And you don't dare cheat;
For if you get caught,
You'll be stomped on by feet.

Most all inmates fashion
Some sort of knife,
To help out their odds
In a fight for their life

I took me a padlock
And snapped it on a chain,
Then hid it in my pant-leg
To keep from being slain.

I get to see you
On our family day;
The worst part about it,
Is when you cry as you play.

Many times you question,
"Dad, when can you leave?"
As the tears from your eyes
Drop to my sleeve.

Our visit is now over
As they wheel you away,
I whisper, "I love you"
And you see what I say.

It's time to go back
To my one-room, shared cell
And try to write a song
About a sad dad in jail.

Tom Zart
Author of
Love, War And More
Published by
Publish America