Pa's not so very big or brave; he can't lift weights like Uncle Jim; <br />His hands are soft like little girls'; most anyone could wallop him. <br />Ma weighs a whole lot more than Pa. When they go swimming, she could stay <br />Out in the river all day long, but Pa gets frozen right away. <br />But when the thunder starts to roll, an' lightnin' spits, Ma says, ' Oh, dear, <br />I'm sure we'll all of us be killed. I only wish your Pa was here.' <br /> <br />Pa's cheeks are thin an' kinder pale; he couldn't rough it worth a cent. <br />He couldn't stand the hike we had the day the Boy Scouts camping went. <br />He has to hire a man to dig the garden, coz his back gets lame, <br />An' he'd be crippled for a week, if he should play a baseball game. <br />But when a thunder storm comes up, Ma sits an' shivers in the gloam <br />An' every time the thunder rolls, she says: ' I wish your Pa was home.' <br /> <br />I don't know just what Pa could do if he were home, he seems so frail, <br />But every time the skies grow black I notice Ma gets rather pale. <br />An' when she's called us children in, an' locked the windows an' the doors, <br />She jumps at every lightnin' flash an' trembles when the thunder roars. <br />An' when the baby starts to cry, she wrings her hands an' says: 'Oh, dear! <br />It's terrible! It's terrible! I only wish your Pa was here.'<br /><br />Edgar Albert Guest<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/when-pa-counts/
