For father’s day I will tell a tale,
of the man who tries hard without fail.
He has an artist flare and a linguist tongue,
he cures the back and is a proprietor for fun.
His father left when he was ten,
a father’s love that never began.
That father dropped by once, out of the blue,
no one knows why and why we never knew.
He worries a lot and pisses off a few,
some friends for life but only those who’ve paid their dues.
So much to do when he was young,
but there was always time to camp, and fish and run.
He has a hearty laugh and can tell a tale,
he knows everyone in town and can make a sale.
He can build a house and a make a home,
just never ask about the unfinished zone.
He has traveled far and near
enjoys his food and likes a Stella beer.
Always a friend to sweets,
tiramisu is a favorite treat.
A day with dad I’ll always remember,
we fished all day at the rivers edge one cold September.
No work for him, no school for me,
a lovely memory it will forever be.