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Red Headed Step Child


My mother had the worst luck with men

Like the biker who wrote her letters from the pen

The mayor and his brother, the priest and his lover

Every Tom and Dick in this country’s ecumene


She married a reformed Buddhist monk

Used his robes for drapes, but man did he get drunk

Whiskey with his toast, but he loved Lysol-spritz the most

He’d breathe into my eye I’ll get you punk


And  he beat me like a red headed step child

Didn’t need a reason to go off like a bomb

Mama I know  you’re not to blame

If you think I’m taking his name

You’re as crazy as that bastard you brought home


She looked like Rita Hayworth and that’s no lie

He looked Charles Manson when he was high

Didn’t like my rufus locks, so I hung out on the block

Told my mama that one day I’d say good-bye


I had a father that I never knew

Mama says he was troubled just like you

Though she doesn’t know for sure, she thinks he sold manure

That explains all the shit that I’ve been through


He came home one night and passed out on the stairs

So I took his keys and finally headed out of there

Crying in the street, but found his wallet on the seat

Put the pedal down and hit the open air


Mailed his ID back with a little note

If you touch one ginger hair I’ll cut throat

I’m not a violent man, but you must understand

I love my mom but you I loathe the most


Now Mother’s passed and my beard is turning grey

I made a life a 1000 miles away

Had to settle her affairs, but I met him on the stairs

I said hello I’ve waited for this day

© Michael Worthington Music 2019


Week 1 of Song A Week Project 2.0

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