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Dad tried his best,

When I was young

To fix in my mind

That “as the twig is bent,

So is the tree inclined;”

And when he laid me across his knee

On punishment intent

I used to cry, and say “Dad, look out

Or I’ll grow up all bent.”

And when he’d say, “come on, young man

And weed this onion bed,” Just when I’d planned a fishing trip

With Johnny Jones instead, I used to scowl until my face

Was black as black could be,

And mutter, “When I grow up, I’ll be hump back-you’ll see!”

But years have come and years have

Gone, with many a care and trouble.

With many a load that for a time

Has bent me nearly double;

But always I’ve sprung back again

Before it was too late; For though he made me bend a bit

‘Twas Dad who made me straight.

Gospel Advocate, Vo1.CXIV , # 30, July 27, 1972