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Edgar Guest - DaddiesEdgar Guest - Daddies
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I would rather be the daddy     Of a romping, roguish crew, Of a bright-eyed chubby laddie     And a little girl or two, Than the monarch of a nation     In his high and lofty seat Taking empty adoration     From the subjects at his feet. I would rather own their kisses     As at night to me they run, Than to be the king who misses     All the simpler forms of fun. When his dreary day is ending     He is dismally alone, But when my sun is descending     There are joys for me to own. He may ride to horns and drumming;     I must walk a quiet street, But when once they see me coming     Then on joyous, flying feet They come racing to me madly     And I catch them with a swing And I say it proudly, gladly,     That I`m happier than a king. You may talk of lofty places,     You may boast of pomp and power, Men may turn their eager faces     To the glory of an hour, But give me the humble station     With its joys that long survive, For the daddies of the nation     Are the happiest men alive.
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