This huddling in my coat, this gypsy bundle

  In Liverpool, in squalor cast adrift

  A dirty ragged mess of desperation

  Though devil-touched I took as God's gift

  No history, no owner, no rhyme, no reason

  Nor explanation of his sorry state

  And yet with all the fire of the survivor

  I couldn't leave it

  I couldn't leave it to its fate



  What are we to do with it?

  Dirty, ragged, coloured breed

  Welcome it with open arms?

  Welcome one more mouth to feed?

  Could your own blood not provide you

  With the gratitude you need?



  We will call the boy Heathcliff!



  And every man on earth conceals a secret

  On which he feeds and yet tears him apart

  And in this child so great that complication

  Will surely destroy the strongest heart

  And as you fall into the traps he sets you

  And as you're drawn to cross his reckless line

  And as I watch you peer into his darkness

  I pray you'll never search

  I pray you'll never search for mine



  What are we to do with it?

  Dirty, ragged, coloured breed

  Welcome it with open arms?

  Welcome one more mouth to feed?

  Could your own blood not provide you

  With the gratitude you need?



  We will call the boy Heathcliff!