First He Was my Father

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My sister uncovered this picture recently. She got it cleaned up and sent it yesterday.

Click the link below for the song. The lyrics are below.


First He Was My Father

I was talking to my father shrouded by a clear blue day                                                                                which only seems unusual cause some years ago he passed away                                                              I was talking, he was listening I wondered what he might say                                                                                               I felt a tug on my toe I woke up and he slipped away                                                                                     I remember he was looking on me with his father eyes

Saw the pain in my face wiped a tear drop from my eye                                                                                                    He came stood beside me and we walked step in step                                                                     I remember feeling a little cheated cause he didn’t look like he’d been dead                                              then I tried to tell him where my troubles all began                                                                                         I felt his hand on my shoulder as if to say  things will be better again




Sometime he was a cowboy                                                                                                                      sometimes he was a chief                                                                                                                                               but first he was my father                                                                                                                                            that’s what he gave to me




I wish we could sit down and watch Jeter and Mo win another game                                                            Or maybe talk about the pay that some of todays players make                                                                        He would talk about Mickey Mantle or Joe DiMaggio                                                                                 Whitey Ford Yogi Berra was his favorite one you know

There were so many questions I never got to ask                                                                                     Like did he feel lonely when two brothers and father had passed                                                           But I guess he thought he should  join them                                                                                                      To welcome their mother home                                                                                                                             But I wonder if he’d gone so soon if he knew she was going to be so long                                                               I think about some of the things he might have kept hid
Like when he was a young man and when he was a kid

Now as I look out with my own father eyes                                                                                                                 I realize how hard it is and how much he must have tried                                                                                   I can’t hold a candle up to some of the the things he did                                                                               Yet there is another part of me that doesn’t want to keep that candle lit                                                        So I can only hope to leave what he left behind                                                                                                         To my children and their children and so on down the line.

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