It's Funny How These Things Work Out

I have two sons, that's what I say,
Although one isn't here today,
But in my thoughts he's always there,
Still in my heart, still in my care,
His youthful face and boyish grin
And happy gait will always bring
His presence to my empty home,
Indeed I think I've always known
That, though apart, we two are one,
Owen was that type of son.
He always knew my thoughtful moods,
Would go away and let me brood,
But, oh, the funny jokes we shared
I wouldn't tell them if I dared,
But laugh, I sometimes thought I'd die,
His jokes could make a person cry.
Now Ben he isn't quite the same,
More like his dad, not just in name,
But also in his quieter style,
To get to know him takes a while,
Of course when Owen drowned that day
It changed our lives in every way
And none of us will ever see
The people we were meant to be.
Now little Owen, he's a one,
And in a way he's like my son,
Those big brown eyes and happy face
Are full of Owen's youthful grace
And lucky us to have him here
He's really brought me so much cheer,
And Jenny's such a lovely girl
And helped Ben face his cheerless world.
It's funny how these things work out
With Jen and Owen just about
To get engaged and buy a house
And book a date for changing vows,
When off he goes to sail a race
And, hopeful of a winning place,
Was eager for the main event
Not knowing that his life was spent.
Now Ben and he were very close
And always tried to do their most
To help each other in their sport
But on that day Ben's staff were short
So he was otherwise employed,
At not the hobby he enjoyed,
And so he wasn't there to see
His brother thrown into the sea,
And couldn't lend a helping hand
When he was dragged up on the sand,
Or help poor Jen when she was told
His body was far more than cold.
His dad and I could not take in,
When asked if we were next of kin,
And many months we couldn't grieve,
You see, you really still believe
They'll walk in through that open door
And even now I'm still not sure,
And think I hear his jolly voice
And wonder, when I make a choice,
Which dress he'd like to see me wear
Just as if he was still there.
Then Jenny came and told us all
To better knit a baby's shawl,
For she and Owen hadn't dared
To let us know the news they shared,
But far from being quite appalled
It's almost though my son had called
And said, 'Don't worry, I'm still here,
You can't get rid of me, no fear'.
And poor dear Jenny, oh so brave,
Gave us all the hope we craved
And little Owen soon arrived
And came the centre of our lives.
And then when he was four years old
Ben and Jenny came and told
How very much they were in love
And hoped that we could ride above
The sadness of our equal loss
And, lovely as my Owen was,
He wouldn't want to bar their way
And stop another wedding day.
And now I have more hugs to give
To all the little Keens who live
Across the road from me and Jack
And though I'd love my Owen back
I'm sure he's here, I have no doubt,
It's funny how these things work out.



Back to village