The Prodigal Son

Lyrics by Rudyard Kipling
Music arranged by Leslie Fish

Here I come into my own again
fed for given and known again
claimed by bone of my bone again
and sheered by flesh of my flesh.
The fatted calf is dressed for me
but the husks had greater zest for me.
I think my picks will be best for me
So I'm off to the yards a'fresh.

I never was very refined, you see
and it weighs on my brother's mind, you see
But there's no reproch among swine, you see
for being a bit of a swine.
So I'm off with my wallet and staff to eat
the bread that three parts chaf to eat
but glory be there's a laugh to it
which isn't the case when we dine.

My father glooms and advises me
my brother sulks and dispises me
and mother catachises me
till I want to stand up and swear
and in spite of the butler's gravity
I know that the servents have it I'm
a monster of moral depravity-
but damned if I think it's fair.

I waisted my substance, I know I did
on riotous living, well, so I did
But there's nothing on record to show I did
any worse than my betters have done.
They talk of the money I spent out there,
they hint at the pace that I went out there
but they all forget I was sent out there
alone as a rich man's son.

So I was the mark for plunder at once
and lost my cash -no wonder- at once
but I didn't give up and knock under at once
I worked in the yards for a spell
where I spent my nights and my days with hogs
and I shared their milk and their maids with hogs
till I guess I've learned what pays with hogs
and I have that knowledge to sell.

So back I go to my job, again
not so easy to rob, again
or quite so ready to sob again
on any old neck that's around
I'm leaving father- goodbye to you
God bless you mother- I'll write to you
I wouldn't be impolite to you
but brother, you are a hound.