My father knows the proper way The nation should be run; He tells us children every day Just what should now be done. He knows the way to fix the trusts, He has a simple plan; But if the furnace needs repairs, We have to hire a man. My father, in a day or two Could land big thieves in jail; There's nothing that he cannot do, He knows no word like "fail." "Our confidence" he would restore, Of that there is no doubt; But if there is a chair to mend, We have to send it out. All public questions that arise, He settles on the spot; He waits not till the tumult dies, But grabs it while it's hot. In matters of finance he can Tell Congress what to do; But, O, he finds it hard to meet His bills as they fall due. It almost makes him sick to read The things law-makers say; Why, father's just the man they need, He never goes astray. All wars he'd very quickly end, As fast as I can write it; But when a neighbor starts a fuss, 'Tis mother has to fight it. In conversation father can Do many wondrous things; He's built upon a wiser plan Than presidents or kings. He knows the ins and outs of each And every deep transaction; We look to him for theories, But look to ma for action.
Edgar Guest - 1881-1959
A Toast to the Men
Dedicated to the Women Here's to the men! Since Adam's time They've always been the same; Whenever anything goes wrong, The woman is to blame. From early morn to late at night, The men fault-finders are; They blame us if they oversleep, Or if they miss a car. They blame us if, beneath the bed, Their collar buttons roll; They blame us if the fire is out Or if there is no coal. They blame us if they cut themselves While shaving, and they swear That we're to blame if they decide To go upon a tear. Here's to the men, the perfect men! Who never are at fault; They blame us if they chance to get The pepper for the salt. They blame us if their business fails, Or back a losing horse; And when it rains on holidays The fault is ours, of course. They blame us when they fall in love, And when they married get; Likewise they blame us when they're sick, And when they fall in debt. For everything that crisscross goes They say we are to blame; But, after all, here's to the men, We love them just the same!