Note: This poem was written by my father when I was a small boy back in the early 60s. When I originally posted it I inadvertently left out the fourth stanza ('Cause then when I came home from school . . . ").
I was horrified when I discovered it (June 2007) and immediately fixed it here as well as here. But I don't know how many copies are floating around in that condition. This is the corrected version. I'm trying to make amends. You could help me out by replacing any deficient copies with this one if you happen to come across one.
I Wish My Daddy Was A Dog
One day when Bruce was just a lad, first starting out in school,
He sat awhile just thinking.... As quiet as could be,
"He chases after rabbits and always scares the cats
" 'Cause then when I came home from school you'd run and lick my hand
Now I know you have to work real hard to buy us food and clothes.
Now when he'd finished speaking, he looked so lonely there,
I know the Lord didn't mean for man to toil his whole life through,
Now, as the years have swiftly flown and youth has slipped away,
When I pause to reminisce and think of joys and strife,
Lots of Memories
(to the tune of Desperado)
Lots of memories
Lurking by each tree and flower
They all have the power to take you away
Back to the time when you led a life without worry
But time in its hurry has changed you today.
Lots of memories
Each one a stroke in a portrait
Together they formed what you are on this day.
You may not know it, but you're seeing inside you.
Those memories guide you along your way
Don't you know these things exist now only in your senses
Those painted shadows you alone can see.
Seems to me the buildings and the fields and roads and fences
Without the past would lose their artistry.
Lots of memories
But are they just incidental?
Is your sentimental side running away?
You live your life in the present, which is just how you ought to
But the past is what got you where you are today.
I Just Call It Home
(to the tune of Turkey in the Straw)
Nestled in the Zuni mountains you will find a peaceful place
Where the sky is clear and there is lots of open space
In the shadow of Mt. Taylor's towering volcanic dome
The sign says Bluewater but I just call it home.
In the early days the railroad offered jobs for everyone
Then the lumber trade came in when railroading was done.
After that the carrot farmers were where jobs were coming from
Until one day someone stumbled on uranium.
Elrod Leany was a Utah man with wife and little girls,
(One of them redheaded and the other with brown curls).
When he graduated college with a Chemistry degree
He wound up in Bluewater to raise his family.
While the Leanys lived in Bluewater they had more family
And they all grew up in peace if not prosperity
But when Elrod lost his wife to death one stormy winter day
And soon Elrod followed her, the kids just moved away.
Now the residents of Bluewater are spread across the land
Raising their own families just like their parents planned.
But one thing they have in common matters not where they might roam,
If you ask them they will still say Bluewater's their home.
Bluewater's Our Home
(to the tune of Home on the Range)
We're all coming home from the places we roam
To see all of the friends we once knew.
Our lives are elsewhere, but our roots are right here
In the mountain home where we all grew.
Lee Hassell is gone and George Rowley passed on,
Joe Nielson is with us no more,
And Patriarch Young's funeral bells have been rung
Like so many who went on before.
ChorusThe White Bridge is no more, same with Nielson's old store,
The people we knew are more gray.
The uranium mill disappeared from the hill
But the spirit we felt's here to stay.
He could fly an airplane or skin a D9 Cat.
He could build a working truck from just an old rust pile.
And I will be most grateful to them for all eternity.
Long before time as we know it began