Pore Old Dad.

Pore Old Dad.
240.3

Te kin sos’ce pick up a paper
An’ Its “post’s cerner” greet.
“Capt ye’ll see er pirty poem
bout the mother, aintly, sweet:
But yo’ll have a time, a-saу-
Eyes will be er-achin’ bad hire ye’ll evertake er poem
At this time for pore old dad!

No, It lan’t willful in ‘am-
Them that write of mother dear
That thar’s never notice taken
Of her old man settin’ near.
No, it’s never meant to slight him.
But hit looks a little sad-
All the bouquets made for mother,
Not a bloom for pore old dad!

True, our mother watched above us
Till her gray old eyes would acne,
But ole dad, he humped to feed us
Till his back would nearly break.
Mother crooned above the cradle,
Oave devotion, all she had;
Still, that wasn’t any circus
At this time for pore old dad!

Do not take one line from mother
When you write the soul-sweet song:
But if thar’s & word for father
Now and then it won’t be wrong.
Pore ole soul! He’s bent and wrinkled,
An’ I know ‘twould make him glad
If, while you are praisin’ mother,
Somethin’s sed for pore old dad!