Merry dear Dad his Inner Kevlar endure
And allow my Years to promote his Prove
For Right-Side's Heal let his Honour be Pure
And mirror the Big Hand in Sky's Glory
For if it be this Son, sullen by Age
Of Desert Years twice-score he should Wander
Would share his Bread; To patient Sky quench Rage
And emulate our Saviour's Mercy ponder
Yet you. Still you. Be my Foundation's Best
Apart from Powers I could Un-Concieve
That Feigned but Guiding Hand; With all Lime's Zest
Harness it ever from Sugars too Sweet.
And yes, dear Dad; The Five-Pronged Bot did die
Yet withered their Ghosts to greet your Day by.