For the Father: I
Well…I’m not really a poet, (you see,) though
try I often do.
And, I’m not much of a singer—now tell me,
friend, are you?
So now you know just what I’m not, what might
ye think I am?
Tell me, friend, could I possibly be, that
long lost King of Siam?
One thing’s for sure, my skin’s not quite
right, it’s just a bit too mellow,
For most to say (at least today) it’s
definitely not very yellow;
And as for the eyes, you don’t have to be
wise, to see too little slant,
To be King or not, is not my lot, I would, if
I could, but I can’t!
So, if not the poet, and not the singer, and
certainly no King of Siam,
What then, my friend, Something
better, perhaps? Better? Is that what I am?
Or so I think, without a doubt, there is that
Family, you know…
And more than a poet or singer or King might
be needed for Family to grow.
The answer is simple, the answer is true; all
know what I know and now say,
With Mother, there is one, and that one is I;
I’m the Father to this family!
(All say Hooray! Say Hooray, today,
Hooray, Hooray--for ME!)
Which brings us, friend to our poem’s end:
Fini; Fini; Fini!
