A welfare Mom, and a farewell Dad
And a child they never meant to have
Taking turns with empty arms
Trying to keep that baby safe from harm

Dad took a job to work up north
And he won't be back till November fourth
Mother holds her breath till rent is due
Praying that his cheque goes through

His Grandma gets him on Sundays
Then back to Mother’s on Mondays
Always playing with a different set of toys
Seems like a dream for a little boy

But no good soul should live that way
With a different parent every day
Waking up and never knowing
To which crib they will be going

That child's been crying bitter tears
And he's passed around for years and years
Never knowing how it feels to stay
When he learns to walk, he’ll walk away

And they all will wonder what they've done
To raise up such a trouble son
All they have to do is take a look
Into that grown man's baby book