I realized I had to post them poem after writing about the book that uses it in the title. Philip Larkin is awesome.
They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you
But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another’s throats.
Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a costal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don’t have any kids yourself.