Butter on Your Bread
© Alistair Sutherland 2010
Author: Alistair Sutherland
In the quiet desperation of a Monday afternoon
The last few days of summer, with the autumn coming soon
I remember clearly, as if it was yesterday,
Daddy busy drinking barely heard my mother say..

Time to stop the dreams, put on some work clothes
Drive those silly notions from your head
Dreams don’t put the food upon your table
Dreams don’t spread the butter on your bread

Daddy’s shoulders tensed up for a moment
Then he stood, and as he walked away
Daddy’s giant head was nodding slowly
All he said was things would be OK

My mother had some papers that she put back in the drawer
Closed her eyes and sighed and tensed the muscles in her jaw
I knew she was unhappy, so I tippy-toed away
Talking to herself now, I could heard her say

Time to stop the dreams, put on some work clothes
Drive those silly notions from your head
Dreams don’t put the food upon your table
Dreams don’t spread the butter on our bread

Time to stop the dreams, put on some work clothes
Drive those silly notions from your head
Dreams don’t put the food upon your table
Dreams don’t spread the butter on your bread