How lucky you are

How Lucky You Are
Its a terrible life for a woman with children out here where we are
We don’t even have mobile service, and no shopping mall or a bar.
We never go out for dinner and I don’t have a babysitter
The isolation here means we must often spend hours in a car.
But you don’t know how lucky you are
Compared to the life of some star
In a city where facebook and twitter
Are the only real things at the bar.
How the hell can I make a difference? I don’t have a mobile phone.
I need two million bucks and a pension to make this place feel like home.
No bus shelter or shopping centre, the kids must ride horses, go fishin’,
Just a dog for a trusty companion, without him we’d be all alone.
But you don’t know how lucky you are
No pollution or traffic so far
And you don’t need to wait for permission
To cross the road or park your car.
There’s nothing whatever to do here. The garden needs water of course,
And our dinners are always so boring, with never some real tasty sauce.
The constraints on a woman are dreadful, I wish I could just get away
To where everyone’s happy together, and no one feels any remorse.
But you don’t know how lucky you are
You don’t have to eat sauce from a jar
You can make a fresh salad each day
And your kids play on grass not on tar.
My husband is mostly out working. He’s often away all day long,
And we don’t get paid by the hour, which to me just always seems wrong.
There’s no play group or childcare service, no welfare support, I get bitter
And the only real entertainment is an occasional butcher bird’s song.
But you could be one of a pair
Who are now permitted to share
No need then for a babysitter
And it’s not even all that rare.

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I read a plaintive poem about the hard life of a boundary rider's wife.