On the back of our property, up on a hill,
an old black oak stands still.
Spent alot of time under those limbs,
Dad and me, putting engines back in.
Him just a cuzzin and wrenches flying,
me with a flashlight  with a battery dying.
Run out of daylight and patience at times
but he'd get the old clunker running just fine.
There was time in the making with this man I called Dad,
learning in progress, good or bad.
I learned that a garage is  easier to work in,
easier to find tools thrown when the temper sets in.
Found that my daughters are not afraid of grease on  their hands,
all because of lessons learned from the man called Dad.
Those that take the time, energy , committ,
to the tasks at hand , then the name will fit.
Step up to the plate, take your stand,
welcome to the world of men called Dad.