THE PRODIGAL SON

 

A story

First told a long time ago

About a Mother’s favourite Son

And how she had to let him go

Though her heart was breaking

Because she loved him so

 

From an early age

She could clearly see

He was the black sheep

In the family

Restless, hanging round                            

Who could never settle down

And was never happy

In the confines of the town

 

Then came the bleak dismay

When on that dismal day

He simply packed a bag

And sadly, kissed her hand

He said he had to be

Footloose and fancy free

‘I have the whole wide World to see

Can’t you see’

 

(brief instrumental)

 

And so, he walked away

Wasn’t seen again, from that day

Whatever had become

Of her Prodigal Son

A bird flying free, forever flying free

Is he ever coming home?

Coming home to me, back to me

And the bosom of the family  

Wherever he might be

Does he ever think of me?

And she prayed to the Power of One

Prayed for the Soul

Of her long, lost Prodigal Son

 

(Brief instrumental)

 

And as the years slipped by

A resentment had begun

The brothers could not understand

Why he was the favoured one

He would not stay and unlike us                        

He was not the dutiful one

And so, they failed to see

He would always be her Prodigal Son

 

A Prodigal Son, the cherished one.

Rodd Sherwin


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