My Old Man

Hey hey, my old man.
Always did the best ya can.
Raised me up from a pup;
Now an then ya ask wot’s up.

Wrote me songs to teach me good.
I always did the best I could.
Kept me straight inside the banks;
I just want to say: “Hey thanks.”

You should meet my old man.
Follows the pianoforte plan.
Writes those songs of Life fer true-
Whether ya up or ready for the blue.

Wrote some stuff for major stars
And lonely folks who live in bars.
Always loving on my old Mom.
House was joyful like a-waiting a prom.

Hey you, my old man.
Showed me how to do the best I can.
All your dreams for me to grow.
Now it’s my turn to spin and glow.
For you,
Darling Old Man.

In answer to David Egans’
wonderful Small Fry [track 7]
on his CD “You Don’t Know Your Mind”


About Kitt

Sometimes a rhyme or couplet wanders across my consciousness. So, I share it. Other times I'm a hospice social worker; others, a Dad; others, southerner, New Orleanian, cajun enthusiast, voter, and on better days, a not-too-awful-poet/rhymster. Welcome to my page. Enjoy.

Posted on August 24, 2013, in Poem. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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