They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.
But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another’s throats.
Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don’t have any kids yourself.
4 thoughts on “Oh Larkin, What Would I Do Without You?”
Be more cheerful? 😉
That’s a little close to home for me.
Then I suggest you don’t read anymore Larkin, possibly ever.
Larkin should have just spoke for himself.
Parents (after Larkin)
They fucked him up, his mum and dad,
And, perhaps they didn’t know it,
For in place of a happy lad
Who’d want a rather fucked up poet?
Sure, they were fucked up in their turn
but it need not last lifelong
my parents taught and I did learn
a decent sense of right and wrong
Don’t hand on misery to man,
But share that in which you rejoice,
Live life in joy, you really can,
and as for children – that’s your choice!