Monday, July 30, 2012


This is my dad with a tired face
Coming home from the daily race,
Bringing little of gold or fame
To show how well he has played the game;
But happy in his heart that his own are glad
And welcome him home with "Hello Dad"

This is my dad with a brood of eight
Sharing that blessing with his loving mate,
Plodding along in the daily strife,
Bearing the whips and the scorns of life,
With never a whimper of complaint or pain,
For the sake of those who at home he trains.

This is my dad, neither rich nor proud,
Merely one of the surging crowd,
Toiling, striving from day to day,
Facing whatever may come his way,
Protective whenever the harsh condemn,
And bearing it all for the love of them.

This is my dad, who gives his all,
To guide the way for his children small,
Doing with courage stern and grim
What he believes is expected of him.
This is the line that for him I pen:
The best of dads, the best of men.

~ This was written by Edgar Guest and adapted some by my sister Karen Gallagher.

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