A woman over thirty years with curly locks of brown
On seat near me on late night train going out of Melbourne Town.
She wore brown shoes and dark blue slacks and cardigan of green
And she leafed through the pages of a woman’s magazine
But in her brown eyes she had a sad look and on her face no joy
And why pretty woman looked so sad to self I wondered why? .
She stopped on page and gazed at photograph of little boy
And then she trembled and I watched the tears roll out her eyes
And then a sob and another sob ’til her grief out of control
And here was I alone in train with woman to console.
I asked her why do you grieve my dear? and she wiped her tears away
And still sobbing she looked towards me and here’s what she did say
The young boy in this photograph reminds me of little Joe
The only child I’ve ever had he died a month ago.
I’m sorry sir to bother you I should control my grief
But as I glanced through this magazine I stopped on the wrong leaf
And the little boy in the photograph at the corner of the page
Looks very like my baby Joe and around the same age.
Says I you have a right to grieve and to choke your grief not wise
And why should you for the way you feel to me apologize?
And I understand for the way you feel and you have my sympathy
And I’d feel no different to you if such happened to me.
In Upper Gully station as she left the train she gently pressed my hand
Saying thank you sir for kindness shown you seemed to understand
And as the train sped towards Belgrave I pitied her, her loss
That poor woman who goes through life shouldering her heavy cross.