Take Me to the Ballgame, Daddy

Read me a bedtime story, Daddy.

I won’t mind if you skip a few pages,

Or even fall asleep in the middle.

Buy me an LP record, Daddy,

I promise that I’ll like it,

Even if it’s Bing Crosby,

Especially if it is.

Take me to the ball game, Daddy,

I won’t complain even if we sit in the bleachers,

And we lose fifty-to-zero,

Even if Russ Jackson doesn’t play,

And Whit Tucker doesn’t catch a single pass.

Take me to the golf course Daddy,

I promise not to fidget,

Not even on the green of the

eighteenth hole.

Take me to the temple, Daddy,

I promise to

To sit quietly,

To pray in earnest,

And listen carefully during the sermon.

Talk to me about your life Daddy,

About your summers in the mine, or on the railroad,

About the rivers you tamed, your trip to Siberia –

I’ll cling to every word you say.

Send me to sleep at 8 p.m., Daddy,

Or even at seven-thirty,

I promise to lie quietly in bed,

and not disturb your bridge game.

Sing to me again, Daddy,

Sing as off key as you want,

Sing songs a century old, or even two,

The saddest song

Will make me smile.

Tell me that you love me, Daddy,

That I did okay,

That part of you stays near me Daddy,

Before you go away.