Ralph McTell — Daddys Whistling Home

Daddy's whistling home from work Mamma's ironing daddy's shirt Tea is on the table, baby's in his cot Money's tight for everyone and they ain't got a lot But what they got's their own Rent's paid on their basement home And from the chilly kitchen she's gazing at the moon Looking for the stars and wishing she did hear the tune Of daddy whistling home She seems to spend so much time on her own He swallows down his tea then it's off to evening school He's doing it for the family, but sometimes life is cruel Lately he seems so tired, too tired for making love Shouts out loudly in his sleep sometimes She's scared he'11 wake the neighbours on the floor above Or baby in his cot He's got his dddy's eyes, he doesn't cry a lot The war is over now, it'll take a little time Till he can say that we are his and she can say he's mine Maybe we're all too tired Expecting too much so soon Through the black-out curtain she can see some stars But can't explain the hurting while she's searching for the moon Baby's lying in his bed Trying to remember what was said Something about a letter dropped behind a back But someone pulls a curtain and the whole scene fades to black Mama's ironing kiddie's clothes Nothing's ever said but everybody knows Singing in the kitchen, wonderin' who he's kissing Wonderin' if he ever talks about me And listening for daddy whistling home