Raymond

Raymond
I work down at Ashbury Hill
Minimum wage, but it pays the bills
Cleaning floors and leading hymns on Sunday
Catherine Davis, room 3-0-3
Sweetest soul you ever could meet
I bring her morning coffee every day

She calls me Raymond
She thinks I'm her son
Tells me get washed up for supper
'Fore your daddy gets home
She goes on about the weather
How she can't believe it's already 1943
She calls me Raymond
And that's alright by me
She talks about the clothes
On the line in summer air
Christmas morning
And Thanksgiving prayer
And stories of a family
That I never had
Well sometimes I find myself
Wishing I'd been there
There's a small white cross in Arlington
Reads Raymond Davis, '71
Until she can see his face again
I'm going to fill in the best I can
She calls me Raymond
And that's alright by me