GRANDPA
My grandpa is the finest man
Excep’ my pa. My grandpa can
Make kites and carts and lots of things
You pull along the ground with strings,
And he knows all the names of birds
And how they call ‘thout using words,
And where they live and what they eat,
And how they build their nests so neat.
He’s lots of fun! Sometimes all day
He comes to visit me and play.
You see he’s getting old, and so
To work he doesn’t have to go,
And when its raining, he
Drops in to have some fun with me.
He takes my hand and we go out
And everything we talk about.
He tells me how God makes the trees,
And why it hurts to pick up bees.
Sometimes he stops and shows to me
The place where fairies used to be;
And then he tells me stories too,
And I am sorry when he’s through.
When I am asking him for more
He say: “Why here’s the candy store!
Let us go there and see if they
Have got the kind we like today.”
Then when we get back home my ma
Says:” You are spoiling Buddy, Pa.”
My grandpa is my mothers’ pa,
I guess that’s what all grandpas are.
And sometimes ma, all smiles will say:
“You didn’t always act that way.
When I was little then you said
That children should be sent to bed
And not allowed to rule the place
And lead old folks a merry chase.”
And grandpa laughs and says: “That’s true,
That’s what I used to say to you
It is a father’s place to show
The young the way that they should go,
But grandpas have a different task,
Which is to get them all they ask.”
