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DADS




My life has been tough,
At times even rough;

I was the youngest of seven,
Blessed by the man up in heaven;

My brothers were bigger and stronger by far,
So they'd pick on me, making life very hard;

I loved them both, as brothers do,
When I wasn't looking, I'd be hit by a shoe;


 We'd laugh and go riding our bikes everyday,
That's what we did, what we did they call play;

My father was busy at work every day,
He never had time for us kids, so he'd say;

How much I hated him for not being there,
Cause as a child, I thought he didn't care;

As I grew older and became a man too,
I began seeing, how it's not always true;

It wasn't his fault, that he wasn't always there,
It wasn't his fault, and he did really care;

I was there, the night that he died,
I found out then, that he really had tried;

By then it was too late,
For my father had died;

John Farthing


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