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