The quiet man who works so hard, No grumbling, no woes, You'll often hear him whistling Everywhere he goes, Repairs, removals, touch-ups too, In a flash, they're done, An urgent chore will see him, Walk rapidly, won't run.
As the years are passing I've noticed, traits, a few, That in-nate-ly I'm doing, My father did so, too. He ne'er liked to be 'en retard' For 'ppointments, specified date, "I'd rather be an hour early, Than e'en one minute late" If I've been asked to give a ride At a specific time, I will be ready earlier, To me, late, is a crime. I put myself in their shoes, Them thinking 'will he come?' So earlier, I will be, Five minutes and then some. What if they did sleep too long, Think, 'my appointment missed?' I'll be there and ready, Leave early, I insist. Ev'n if I'm the one who waits For pickup, at my door, I will be ready earlier, Few minutes, even more. I oft' think of my father, Thank him, that trait, did give, So I could be a blessing, While on this earth, I live. So when I'm needed somewhere, Like dad, I'll be the one, Though 'tis a good thing to proclaim, I AM, my father's son.