When you died some years ago
Our father put on your gravestone
A romantic verse declaring love so true
Telling of how he felt, but not of you
I would have chiselled other words
So something about you might be heard
Your immaculate clothes, your head held high
Refusing to bow, your grit, your fight
One day I said something stupid, trite
You didn’t hesitate to put me right
Now, shoulders droop, I’m feeling down
I hear your voice clear and loud
My son, it’s good to be proud
My son, it’s good to be proud
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