My Papa's Waltz, by Theodore Roethke The whiskey on your breath could I make a small boy dizzy; But I hung on like death; such waltzing was not easy. We romped until the pans slid from the kitchen shelf; My mother's countenance could not unfrown itself. The hand that held my wrist was battered on my knuckle; At every step you missed My right ear scraped a buckle. You beat time on my head With a palm caked hard by dirt, Then waltzed me off to bed Still clinging to your shirt.
My Papa"s Waltz, by Theodore R
My Papa's Waltz, by Theodore Roethke
The whiskey on your breath
could I make a small boy dizzy;
But I hung on like death;
such waltzing was not easy.
We romped until the pans
slid from the kitchen shelf;
My mother's countenance
could not unfrown itself.
The hand that held my wrist
was battered on my knuckle;
At every step you missed
My right ear scraped a buckle.
You beat time on my head
With a palm caked hard by dirt,
Then waltzed me off to bed
Still clinging to your shirt.