Misunderstanding Blues

The mortician stood by the slab
Red-eyed from working late
The mortician looked so weary
She had been called up from her bed
It was the witching hour
When she was called out by the sergeant on the case

I drove until first light in my Volkswagen
I’d had a call from the local police
Through icy fog I drove that vehicle
Without stopping for a rest break
It was the darkest hour
When I first heard from the sergeant on the case 

When I reached the hospital
She pulled the drawer from the cabinet
They’d taken me to the basement
To see him lying in a cabinet
It was the first light of morning
When the sergeant asked me Do you recognise this face?

I had to go see our mother
I could not tell her by telephone
I had go tell our mother
That her first-born son was dead
It was the blackest part of the blackest day
When the sergeant sent me on my way

The judge was like Ponticus Pilate
He saw no need to intervene
He washed his hands like Ponticus Pilate
It was a misunderstanding that just got out of hand
Self-defence the accused claimed
You do know, the deadman was a gay?

I drove up north in my Volkswagen
When the case came up in court
Through April showers I drove that vehicle
To witness each day of the case in court
It was the bleakest Holy Week
When the sergeant set him free

~

n.b. Mixed feelings about posting this. Not my story, but sadly,only too true in essence.

CLP 20/04/2025