When I was a young Tom cat
And my thoughts were all of cream,
Id slash and claw at all I saw
And take by whatever mean.
When I was a rabid dog of a lad
And red did cross my eyes,
Id foam and bite at all that passed
And all that I despised.
When I was a raging bull of a man
And brew was in my soul,
Id fight and duck for rages luck
And pay no mans toll.
But now I am a quieter man
Who seeks a quieter role,
I have met my love, my darling dove
Who quietened my angry soul.
Copyright © 2017 Charlie Hasler.