Not really a poet? Hmmm?

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!