Dearest Pal of Pals

By Joseph William Reece
Magrath, Canada

We love to speak of Mother, because we love her best,
But still we love another who bravely stands the test.
He’s Man of Men! A Soldier! So brave and true is he,
There’s nothing he wouldn’t shoulder, to clothe and shelter me.

I call him “Dear old Daddy,” and true, he’s dear to me,
For next to Mother always comes Father, don’t you see?
But what about us children, did we not take his gold,
His heart, his love and kindness, and help him to grow old?

All that, and more! I’ll answer, it rings within my ears,
But how can we repay him – with gold, or burning tears?
Oh no! No pay’s sufficient, not even worlds of gold:
For all his youth we’ve taken; and, friends, he’s growing old.

Yet, if by him in childhood we always did what’s right,
He calls those dreams his fortune and wills to us that light.
But if we did not help him through the storms and wrecking waves –
That debt rolls on forever! E’en while we’re in our graves.

For only dear old Daddy can know what he has done
To keep a home from hunger. To save us – every one.
But after all we leave him to work and fight his way
And guard our dear old Mother until the judgment day.

And this he sees with sorrow and it may bring him pain;
But if you fall tomorrow, he’ll take you home again.
So if you love your Mother, the dearest gal of gals,
I know you’ll find your Daddy the dearest pal of pals.

(1925)