FATHER’S DAY
Words and music Roger Coghill
The sun shines in the morning sky,
A glory to behold.
My own son is a faltering dream,
A son that I have scarcely seen
Since he was three years old.
A boy without his father’s love
Is all too common now.
It isn’t what our nature planned.
How natural is it to be banned
Nor see one’s children grow?
Chorus: We are the sonless fathers,
Our sons veiled from the light
Dark clouds from wives
With different lives
Exclude them from our sight.
We write, we text, we mail them
To try to keep in mind
Remembered joys which we once had,
Those simple toys which made them glad
Love of a special kind.
We lose our days of walks in woods,
Of cheering on their teams.
The pride or pain at the end of the game,
Each season’s summer went and came,
All filled with empty dreams.
Where are those close together days
The playing on the beach?
It’s all too late to fill the slate,
No chance than sons matriculate
In lessons fathers teach.
Chorus
There is a whole dad’s army
Battalions of the banned
Whose offsprings grow, but never go
Proudly to school with heart aglow
And father’s friendly hand.
Coda:
There must be answers to this scene
Of father torn from son
When angry wives get out their knives
To sever through our knotted lives
When they have just begun.