Daddy loved to sing
Even though he couldn't carry a tune.
And he had a snore
That shook the dishes in the next room.
Such a green thumb he had!
Whatever he'd plant would grow.
He loved to tend the gardens
Caring for the seeds he'd sown.
Daddy loved the Church,
And faithfully served the Lord.
A deacon, a teacher, whatever was asked.
How he studied the precious Word!
Phone chats were a lot of fun.
The farm, the Church, his Cincinnati Reds.
His work was hard from dawn to dark,
But he'd watch or listen to a game before bed.
When his heart gave him trouble
His steps had to be slowed.
It was hard for him to take it easy,
Not tend to the land he sowed.
But he'd chat and talk,
Give advice on anything I'd ask.
He passed to me his love of Church and land.
Knew I'd be up to every task.
When I think of him, I don't feel sad.
I know he does rejoice.
Singing praises to our God and King
With such a fine, clear voice!
Jane Ellen Slone ©
June 5, 2008
Music: "Lakes Of Pontchartrain"
Taylor's Traditional Tunebook (American Tunes)
"Midi files sequenced by Barry Taylor."
Copyright By Barry Taylor
Used With Permission