|
The old man sits on a chair in my lounge room |
|
His face has seen years, His eyes have shed tears |
|
He's been through a lifetime, His friends have all gone |
|
He waits in his chair as I walk down the stair |
|
He look up at me and his face forms a smile |
|
His eyes fill with life as he notices me |
|
His body is ancient, yet he looks so happy |
|
He opens his mouth and greets me with glee |
|
I look at the old man, I smile politely |
|
I shake his leathery hand |
|
He gets to his to feet and I look in his eye |
|
I open my mouth and address the old man |
|
How did you get in my house, old man |
|
I don't know who you are |
|
You seem like a very sweet, nice, old man |
|
But I don't know who you are |
|
The old man laughs and calls me Tobias |
|
He thinks it's a game when I say my real name |
|
He asks how my wife is and how are my children |
|
I tell him I'm single, He laughs it away |
|
He walks to the kitchen and he puts on the kettle |
|
He asks me if I want some tea |
|
I tell him okay and the water starts boiling |
|
He fills up my cup and hands it to me |
|
I'm sorry but that isn't milk, old man |
|
I still don't know who you are |
|
You've put mayonnaise in my tea old man |
|
And I don't know who you are |
|
The old man stops, I think I've upset him |
|
His smile disappears, His eyes fill with tears |
|
He puts down the teacup, looks up at me slowly |
|
And says "Dear Toby, I Hate those Japs." |
|
I wander upstairs and I fetch some trousers |
|
He puts them on in the usual way |
|
He tells me that he doesn't know where he's going |
|
I say there's a room and that he can stay |
|
You can live in my house old man |
|
I don't care who you are |
|
You're pretty racist but funny old man |
|
And I quite like who you are |
|
Yes I quite like who you are. |
