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My Pa

From the Rock Island Argus, May 17, 1913.
 By S. E. Kiser.

 My pa is not a millionaire,
     He’s never been elected yet
 To any office anywhere,
     There’s lots of things that we can’t get;
 Ma often wishes we could buy
     The costly things the neighbors do;
 The price of livin’ is so high
     We have to skimp and worry through.
 I guess my pa was never meant
     To be a leader in the strife;
 Ma says he’ll not be president
     Nor get ahead much in this life.
 But he can make a whistle, though
     Just from a piece of willow tree;
 I wish that you could see the bow
     And arrow that he fixed for me.
 My pa gets paid so much a week
     Because he doesn’t own a store;
 Ma says if he was not so meek
     And mild he might be drawin’ more.
 We have no car nor runabout
     And nearly always have to save;
 Ma’s heart is often full of doubt,
     But pa keeps hopin’ and is brave.
 Sometimes I help him in the yard
     When he comes home on Saturdays;
 I’m sorry he must work so hard
     And wish that he could get a raise;
 Most all the time ma needs a lot
     Of things we can’t afford, and which
 The neighbors nearly all have got
     Because they managed to get rich.
 My pa sometimes takes me away
     Out in the country for fresh air;
 We build dams in the streams and play
     That both of us are boys, out there;
 Ma says that pa, long, long ago
     Just got to be a mere machine;
 I wouldn’t want to trade him, though
     For any pa I’ve ever seen.

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