My Daddy

My Daddy

My daddy is here no more, but he was the best,

He’d do all his chores and help mama, so she could rest.

On Saturday he would play ball with us all day,

But on Sunday, you’d see him taking his family to Church to stay . . .

Until all the songs were sung … preaching done,

Then we would get ready to leave …one by one.

He would sit on the front porch, just humming away.

One could catch him there most any ole day.

The fields were plowed; the crops were already in.

Daddy was a good soldier of the Cross, fighting, sin.

Getting ready for the harvest, his crops and our souls.

Bowing down, to Jesus, calling the roll.

He was a believer, and he now walks on the streets of gold.

Being a child of God, we know, he awaits us with stories untold.

Wasn’t it just this morning he’d hug me and say . . .

I want you, (my girl) to have a wonderfully happy day.

He knew it was almost time, for his Savior to give him a call,

Living with that old cancer and what it does and all.

But, he wasn’t afraid to go, he was going to his dearest friend.

A Savior who, (when he got there) would forever, his ails, end.