Tricia turned to me today,
She wanted to stop the heroin, from going in
What could I say?
There’s a nine-month waiting list, for ladies like yourself,
Not in the best of health,
Not in the best of health


Tricia came with her friend John,
She stood there with a trembling chin, confessed her sin
Where’s the money gone?
Yesterday, you stole; you stole the rent from John,
Now you’ll be movin’ on,
Now you’ll be movin’ on.


Tricia came with no last name,
She was hungry and tired; she was totally wired
Who can I blame?
I’m not qualified to know, was she high, or was she low?
She had nowhere to go,
She had nowhere to go


Tricia’s friend was friend to me,
I used to buy him coffee all the time, and life was fine
John works for free
He sells the homeless magazine; drugs are not his scene
She ruined everything,
She ruined everything


Tricia, why did you come here?
I wanted to stop the heroin, from going in;
I made it clear.
If she’d only wanted clothing, food, or even shelter,
I could have helped her,
I could have helped her.


Tricia, won’t you stay awhile?
We can offer you coffee and tea, a little sympathy
I tried to smile
In my many times of strife; in my role as mother-wife
Nothing prepared me, Tricia,
Nothing prepared me, quite
For this day of your life,
For this day of your life.


© Val Sherwood

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