My Son
GOD'S GIFT MY SON (BUSSIE)
God is so good to us,
In ways we do not understand.
We were blessed with twins you see,
Two boys was God's command.
One He took to Heaven again,
But the other He let us keep.
God's judgment is always good you know,
So the one we have can't be beat.
We call him Les for there are no more,
And he is the best in all the land.
As a loving son he is the greatest,
For his mother groomed him with a loving hand.
Mother nurtured him with kindness,
And he followed his dad in his trade.
He learned to be the best there is,
And he is always tops in his grade.
The love you had for your mother,
Is still in your heart today,
For the love you showed her while living,
Has blossomed in every way.
My love for you can not be measured,
For it's like the love God gave His Son.
It's not measured only by our deeds each day,
But by the love in my heart that you won.
A more handsome man you could never be,
And your graciousness is enhanced by your love,
For you show your love in so many ways,
It had to be endowed from heaven above.
My love for you is beyond expression,
For you are a great joy in my life.
You fill the void that mother left,
And are taking away my sorrow and strife.
I'll love you till the end of time,
For I know you love me the same.
A more loving son could have never been,
For in my heart you spark the flame.
MAY GOD BLESS YOU FOREVER MY LOVING SON
by Your Old Dad
L.M.Willson
~~Song written by your mother for you~~
PATCHES
I watch from the window, as my little lad,
Tries so much to be like his dad.
~Even to his fishing clothes~
And though I know he'll be alright,
I'll keep watching till he's out of sight,
As down the dusty lane he goes.
Chorus:
Patches, not one of them matches.
But what does he care
Why, he's walking on air.
Stolling down to the stream.
Patches, I know when he snatches,
His old fishing pole
Wiggling worms from a hole
He's off to fish and to dream.
While he's dreaming undercover,
From the light of day,
Fish are screaming and discover,
How to get away.
Patches, my heart, it just catches,
He'll grow up someday,
And he'll go on his way,
And I'll wear patches,
His funny patches,on my heart.
© 1950 by Una Marie Willson
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