There may be finer pleasures than just tramping with your boy,
And better ways to spend a day; there may be sweeter joy;
There may be richer fellowship than that of son and dad,
But if there is, I know it not; it’s one I’ve never had.
Oh, some may choose to walk with kings and men of pomp and pride,
But as for me, I choose to have my youngster at my side.
And some may like the rosy ways of grown-up pleasures glad,
But I would go a-wandering with just a little lad.
Yes, I would seek the woods with him and talk to him of trees,
And learn to know the birds a-wing and hear their melodies;
And I would drop all worldly care and be a boy awhile;
Then hand-in-hand come home at dusk to see the mother smile.
Grown men are wearisome at times, and selfish pleasures jar,
But sons and dads throughout the world the truest comrades are.
So when I want a perfect day with every joy that’s fine,
I spend it in the open with that little lad o’ mine.
Other works by Edgar Albert Guest...
