Half Fist

I've seen the family photos

And the man's a mystery

Died in 1942 at the age of 43

My grandmother was his widow

And my father was his son

Oh, but I know next to nothing

Of the first Loudon

They say he was an SOB

Who liked to smoke and drink

In the photos he looks handsome

Attractive's what I think

And there's one of him in uniform

And it must have been World War I

They say he was an expert sailor

And could handle a shotgun

In the wedding portrait

Posing with his young bride

His right hand, hidden by her bouquet

Is left hanging at his side

Closed in a kind of half-fist

Unsure what he'd just done

Facing his short future

Like he could hit someone

It was elbows off the table

Before the meal'd begun

And it's his hands I recognize

He gave them to his son

Whose own hands held and touched me

And ruffled up my hair

And I recognize that half-fist

I'd know it anywhere

Later on, in the late 30s

He began to go to sea

In the photos he looks loaded;

They observe and I will heed

Mugging for the camera, having a little fun

Cigarette in one hand

And a drink in the other one

Yes, I know a little something

About the first Loudon

My grandmother was his widow

And my father was his son

Tell me what are we afraid of?

Why do we resist?

I spread my hands and flex my fingers

Open and close my fist

I spread my hands and flex my fingers

Open and close my fist