What towels were made for.

Born into a village that I still call home ,
at the age of sixteen starting to roam ,
joined the army for adventure and a new look on life,
took just three years of calling,
I had of me a wife.
Not just any old girl but the one with the smarts,
took her out a dancing,
even to the arts,
after fifteen years of hauling,
we was all a stalling,

Nothing readys you for something like that.

Had some kids to keep me steady,
then when I thought that I was ready,
found another girl to keep me straight and narrow,
just six weeks after courting,
should have really done the walking,
what she told me would have chilled you to the marrow,
seems she'd tread an unsheltered course,
had some friends who knew the horse,
had dabbled with the bridle so it seems.
Well you could have bowled me over with a sprig of four leaf clover as she disassembled all my hopes and dreams.

You'd think that i'd have learned by now.

Five kids now in tow,
shafted double in a row,
I could have given up, just thrown in the towel,
But I took deep breaths instead,
took them all inside my head,
Shielding them as if i was a cowel,
Now many years have past,
I get a reward at last,
My sacrifice come home to bless on me,
As the grandchildren they wet upon my knee.

Towels were made for such a time.