We put more coal on the big red fire, <br />And while we are waiting for dinner to cook, <br />Our father comes and tells us about <br />A story that he has read in a book. <br /> <br /> <br />And Charles and Will and Dick and I <br />And all of us but Clarence are there. <br />And some of us sit on Father's legs, <br />But one has to sit on the little red chair. <br /> <br /> <br />And when we are sitting very still, <br />He sings us a song or tells a piece; <br />He sings Dan Tucker Went to Town, <br />Or he tells us about the golden fleece. <br /> <br /> <br />He tells about the golden wool, <br />And some of it is about a boy <br />Named Jason, and about a ship, <br />And some is about a town called Troy. <br /> <br /> <br />And while he is telling or singing it through, <br />I stand by his arm, for that is my place. <br />And I push my fingers into his skin <br />To make little dents in his big rough face.<br /><br />Elizabeth Madox Roberts<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/father-s-story/
