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My name is Hank Low
I was born on Christmas eve
My Daddy wasn't there
He was talking with the police
A neighbour called it in
He was hitting mom again, again, again
No ambulance came
Only stuttered grief
Ma fell asleep on the couch
While my brother played with me
No charges pressed
Soon dad was home, home, home
Busted lip
Milk and cheese
At the grocery store
Eyes looking down at me
Six years old, bubble gum hid
I my hand in my pocket
Now Ma only cried
When she watched TV
At night I'd lie awake
Till Dad fell asleep
Come fourth grade my Ma held me
And called me her little night watchman
My brother fell sick
When he turned fifteen
His eyes went dark
His head went mean
I cried and cried
The night he died, alone, alone
So Ma went down
To the Welfare House
See money got smaller
Since Frankie killed himself
And Dad blamed Ma
Put her head through a wall, put her head through a wall
I came up slow behind
Moving awfully quiet
I remember the summer crickets
I stabbed him thirty times
My name is Hank Low
I was thirteen years old
I was the night watchman