Moms and Dads by Bill Childers

I remember the ball game in the pasture next door,
The bases were piles of stone.
While sliding into home plate with a tying run,
A piece-of-the-plate went to the bone.

My face felt wet, the rocks were red,
But, my head didn't really hurt.
Someone ran for mom to hurry outside...
She couldn't find the cut for the dirt!

Everybody thought we'd hurry to the doctor,
He'd clean, sew and make it like new.
But Mom sat me down at the kitchen sink,
Proceeding to tell me a thing... or two.

All the time she was cleaning, and dabbing,
Saying, "It's not as bad as it seems.
We all knew I'd be poisoned, have lock-jaw...
That night my head was full of dreams.

Yes. I remember that game, the rock that hurt,
When I touch the dent in my forehead.
I remember more the gentle, caring hands...
And love in the things mother said.

My daddy always said not to be afraid of work,
That it's a thing of pride.
Why, some can lie beside it,
Working harder to deny it...
And watch their integrity fall by the wayside!

My daddy always said not to worry about mistakes,
That they're signs of honest work.
If you think you're without flaw,
You've most likely too much jaw...
And you haven't moved near enough dirt!

My daddy always said not to fake what you don't know,
That it's okay to say it... if that's the case.
You'll surely find someone
Who'll help you make a home-run...
If you can honestly say you can't find first base!

My daddy always said to be honest first with yourself,
That you must be your own best friend.
Otbers will join your parade
If it's plain there's no charade...
And, they'll walk with you to the very end.