My teacher said us boys should write
about some great man, so I thought last night
'n thought about heroes and men
that had done great things,
'n then I got to thinkin' 'bout my pa;
he ain't a hero 'r anything but pshaw!
Say! He can ride the wildest hoss
'n find minners near the moss
down by the creek; 'n he can swim
'n fish, we ketched five new lights, me 'n him!
Dad's some hunter too - oh, my!
Miss Molly Cottontail sure does fly
when he tromps through the fields 'n brush!
(Dad won't kill a lark 'r thrush.)
Once when I was sick 'n though his hands were rough
he rubbed the pain right out. "That's the stuff!"
he said when I winked back the tears. He never cried
but once 'n that was when my mother died.
There're lots o' great men: George Washinton 'n Lee,
but Dad's got 'em all beat holler, seems to me!