Father's Whiskers
I have a dear old daddy
For whom I nightly pray
He has a set of whiskers
That are always in the way
Oh, they're always in the way
The cows eat them for hay
They hide the dirt on Daddy's shirt
They're always in the way
Father had a strong back
Now it's all caved in
He stepped upon his whiskers
And walked up to his chin
Oh, they're always in the way
The cows eat them for hay
They hide the dirt on Daddy's shirt
They're always in the way
Father has a daughter
Her name is Ella Mae
She climbs up father's whiskers
And braids them all the way
Oh, they're always in the way
The cows eat them for hay
They hide the dirt on Daddy's shirt
They're always in the way
I have a dear old mother
She likes the whiskers, too
She uses them for dusting
And cleaning out the flue
Oh, they're always in the way
The cows eat them for hay
They hide the dirt on Daddy's shirt
They're always in the way
|
