Classic Poem

I like to play close by my father's den,
Where he's at work, and every now and then
Ask: " Father, are you there? " He answers back:
" Yes, son. " That time I broke my railroad track
All into bits, he stopped his work and came
And wiped my tears, and said, " Boy, boy! Be game! "
And then he showed me how to fix it right,
And I took both my arms and hugged him tight.

Once, when I'd asked him if he still was there,
He called me in and rumpled up my hair,
And said: " How much alike are you and I!
When I feel just as boys feel when they cry,
I call to our Big Father, to make sure
That He is there, my childish dread to cure.
And always, just as I to you, " Yes, son";
Our Father calls, and all my fret is done! "

I like to play close by my father's den,
Where he's at work, and every now and then
Ask: " Father, are you there? " He answers back:
" Yes, son. " That time I broke my railroad track
All into bits, he stopped his work and came
And wiped my tears, and said, " Boy, boy! Be game! "
And then he showed me how to fix it right,
And I took both my arms and hugged him tight.

Once, when I'd asked him if he still was there,
He called me in and rumpled up my hair,
And said: " How much alike are you and I!
When I feel just as boys feel when they cry,
I call to our Big Father, to make sure
That He is there, my childish dread to cure.
And always, just as I to you, " Yes, son";
Our Father calls, and all my fret is done! "