by A. Lawrence Vaincourt

His shoulders are stooped and his hair's getting thin

And he can't move as fast as he did

But he was the guy who stood seven feet tall

When you were a wee little kid

In a world full of terrors you always felt safe

Long as you had hold of his hand

Back then he was Papa or Daddy or Dad

But now he is just the old man

Remember the guy who excused your misdeeds

By saying that "Boys will be boys"

Who painted your bike and patched your skinned knees

And repaired all your broken down toys

Remember the guy on whose shoulders you sat

So that you could look over the crowd

Now don't be ashamed if he tells a tale twice

Just say "He's my dad" and be proud

There's the time you went camping and he taught you to fish

That summer when you were a lad

And you slept 'neath the stars that night, by a stream

Just you and your best friend, your dad

When the hugs that he gave you, when you were a child

Were replaced by the clasp of his hand

You knew that he loved you not one bit the less

He was still there, he was your old man

And though there were times when you might disagree

You knew he would still back your stand

For when push came to shove he was always right there

In your corner, there stood the old man

But now you've outshone all the things that he's done

You've surpassed him in knowledge and wealth

Now you are the one who stands straight and tall

While he's stooped and failing in health

So take him to lunch and buy him a beer

And call him whenever you can

Who knows if he'll even be with you next year

And remember, he is The Old Man.

© 1991 A. Lawrence Vaincourt

web site at:

For information of purchasing one of Larry's books,
please click here