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by Paddy Mulhern
My daddy goes to work in a golden Cadillac,
He employs a chauffeur to drive him there and back,
We live in a mansion on a hill outside the town,
He works in the city watching shares go up and down.
We have a butler and a gardener, a servant and a maid,
A front door for the visitors, a back door for the trade,
Mummy spends the afternoon in a silken Dior gown,
Lunching on the terrace, watching yachts go up and down.
Daddy has decided I should go to boarding school,
Although he didnít go himself he feels itís now the rule,
In fact itís quite essential he determines with a frown,
Struggling with a study of the points going up and down.
One day daddy bought a factory, shut it down and then,
He had made a million before half past ten,
His name within the city was held in high renown,
His shares going sharply up, the worker's going down.
Now mummy tells me daddy may have to go away,
For six months or a year he may be obliged to stay,
In a mansion on a hill on the other side of town,
Where no one sees the sun coming up or going down.
The chauffeur and the butler, the servant and the maid,
Are no longer with us, the table goes unlaid,
Summertime is over, the leaves all going brown,
But I never see the gardener raking up or raking down.
Me and mummy by the roadside at the bottom of the hill,
Weíre going to visit daddy, heís in that mansion still,
Mummy pulls a raincoat around her faded dior gown,
While weíre waiting on the buses going up and going down.