His shoulders are a little bent, He's seldom cross and never mean; He's always been so good and clean;
I only hope I'll always be
Sometimes he's tired and seems forlorn, His happy face is lined and worn;
Yet he can smile when things are bad:
He doesn't ask the world for much, Just comfort, friendliness, and such;
But from the things I've heard him say,
For all the deeds he's done for me Since I sat rocking on his knee;
Oh, not in dollars, dimes, or cents,
Nor does he worship wealth and fame,
Source unknown
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