What Money Can't Do

When money can hold any woman's hand
Comfort  her in that awful hour when
She is delivering her new born child
Attend to her needs making thunder mile
When the creep bangs from outer darkness's deep
As the child lays, breaking her shallow sleep
What money can't do, it never will

Replace her man and his hold of her hand
Comfort him in that awful hour, when
He missed delivering their new born child
Attend to him when thunder isn't mild
In the cries of a baby boy looming
Breaking the morning air with cries booming
What father's do, money cant, never will