When it's one of your own you go flocking,
When it's one down the line you don't go knocking,
When it's blood you are there but ignore the water,
Even though the people you leave are your granddaughter's.
I hear you say you miss them and you claim that you care,
But when it really matters you are never there,
You don't even look over to see how they are,
Yet play the innocent victim to those who look on from afar.
When they are poorly or scared and their mummy is here,
Not one of your faces are seen to be near,
Yet you make out like you're doting on their little souls,
But those who see the truth are the ones who know.
So when you feel like showing your faces more,
It might be too late; you'll not get through my door.
I'm not being nasty or playing them off in a game,
But you turned your back so now I'm doing the same.
We are going to be happy and you wont be there to see,
Their happiest memory of growing up will be me.
For I wiped their tears and kissed their poorly tummies,
Not nanny or grandad, just their devoted mummy.