You were a mother to all of us mongrels
You were always right
And we were the wrong'uns
We've grown up now, supposedly
No more nights hunched over the toilet seat
But I wish you were still here
To take the piss out of me
When we were 16,
Filled with concrete and cheap ketamine
You were there.
When we burnt that tent in the woods,
You turned up the next morning
Always doing what you could
And I hope that heaven has your cherry brandy
And they know just how you like to pour it
I would've gone and got you some
But you left without warning.
Your final curtain call has come too soon,
So we'll get pissed down here,
And make a toast to you.