It's Only Fair                                                                                                   

Mother has had a heap of praise
And she deserves it, goodness knows;
But it is seldom that we gaze
On any poetry--or prose
That speaks of Dad, so I propose
To make the Old Man's spirit glad
By slipping him his due. here goes,
I sing a little song to Dad!

Throughout his life he spends the days
In earning cash to pay for hose
And shoes and suits and rent; he pays
And pays and pays, yet seldom shows
Impatience as his burden grows;
He keeps us housed and fed and clad,
In summer's heat, in winter's snows,
--I sing a little song to Dad!

He understands our little ways
He sympathizes with our woes,
Our schemes he aids, our games he plays,
And deep within his heart there glows
A love he doesn't much disclose,
But which outlasts good times and bad
Withstanding all fate's stoutest blows;
I sing a little song for Dad!


It's seldom any one bestows
the praise that Father should have had,
But--here's the debt that one man owes,
I sing a little song for Dad!

Published in: Hurdy-Gurdy On The Olympus - 1927

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