Not a single one in the family, not even a mouse,
Knew that someone was in need of concern,
A fact too late to be learnt.
The parents were snug in their bed,
While Grandmother was nodding her head.
A note was stuck on the wall,
Bidding farewell as the last call,
Because he wants to see his life better,
And that was the core of the matter.
T'was not a while before the sun shone strong,
Did the family learnt something was wrong.
Why did not Tom at the breakfast table appear,
This in the parents' heart struck a chord of fear.
With a little quick thinking,
Mr Chin in a quicksand was sinking,
Remembering what Tom had asked of them a fortnight before,
Why must we live in poverty and more.
"Now, Tom, Father is trying his best,
Four jobs in all, without a day's rest,
To put food on the table each meal,
What more could you ask for, it is the best deal!"
Tom's lips turned down,
With his head bowed, he felt like a clown.
And just as the parents were about to call the police,
The sound of a lock and the door was released.
"Tom! My dear son,
Where have you been, on a cold Mon?"
He was wrapped in a sheet from his head to his foot,
And his face was covered with ashes and soot.
A haversack of clothing fell from his back,
And with a look of regret, he confessed his lack
Of understanding for his father,
His parents gave him a big hug, telling him that it ain't no big matter.
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