Days of Pearly Spencer
David McWilliams - David McWilliams, Volume 2 [1967]

A tenement, a dirty street,
Walked and worn by shoeless feet
Inside it's long and so complete,
Watched by a shivering sun

Old eyes in a small child's face,
Watching as the shadows race
Through walls and cracks that leave no trace,
And daylight's brightness shun

The days of Pearly Spencer,
Ah, The race is almost run

Nose pressed hard on frosted glass,
Gazing as the swollen mass
On concrete fields where grows no grass,
Stumbles blindly on

Iron trees smother the air,
But, withering, they stand and stare
Through eyes that neither know nor care,
Where the grass has gone

The days of Pearly Spencer
Ah, the race is almost run

Pearly, where's your milk-white skin,
What's that stubble on your chin?
Buried in the rotgut gin,
You played and lost, not won

You played a house that can't be beat,
Now look, your head's bowed in defeat
You walked too far along the street,
Where only rats can run

The days of Pearly Spencer,
Ah, the race is almost run

The days of Pearly Spencer,
Ah, the race is almost run

Copyright © 1967 David McWilliams
 

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