6 foot 9 he took it out on family
The beating she took for his insanity
The day I held a shotgun I wished I put it down
Misloaded with rifle shells
Had it fired I would be in prison
For now grown I wanted with him one round
Fist trained in the ring of boxing
When he turned and ran I cursed
For the fight I had long wanted and many times rehearsed
He died drinking and smoking in a wheelchair and house fire
In a State the eldest son was the executor
I went only to sign away the estate and know his death was sure
Did not want this evil man dead or alive
But Mom knew her bleeding would mark his grave