21 January 1983... written a few weeks after Dad died suddenly aged 56 ...
Happy Father's Day.
MY DAD.
My Dad was the world's best Dad,
And when he died we all were sad,
But the good times linger on,
If we think of them, then he hasn't gone.
A rough childhood made a man of him,
He thought things out, would't act on a whim.
He worked his way from bottom to top,
Maybe that was his trouble- he couldn't stop.
He was good at making model boats,
Was interested in anything that floats,
He was a craftsman through and through,
There wasn't anything he couldn't do.
We spent hours walking on the beach,
And as we walked, he tried to teach,
He talked about old ships and treasure,
And wonderful things beyond all measure.
He'd say to me "Keep that, it's old.",
I always did as I was told,
Now I can sit and look around,
Smile and see the things we found.
He made sure his worries, stayed his own,
Would always listen if we would moan,
In his way keeping the world at bay,
I'll do that for my kids one day.
Well now he's gone; he won't be back,
And life without him seems so black,
I just can't think how I will cope,
But we'll walk on the beach again I hope?
BEACH BUOY.
