I never thought that Bill could say <br /> A proper prayer; <br />'Twas more in his hard-bitten way <br /> To cuss and swear; <br />Yet came the night when Baby Ted <br /> Was bitter ill, <br />I tip-toed to his tiny bed, <br /> And there was Bill. <br /> <br />Aye, down upon his bended knees <br /> I heard him cry: <br />"O God, don't take my kiddy, please! <br /> Don't let him die!" <br />Then softly so he would not see, <br /> I shrank away: <br />He would have been so shamed for me <br /> To see him pray. <br /> <br />Men-folk are queer: Bill acts up tough, <br /> Yet how it's odd, <br />When things are looking downright rough <br /> He tunes to God. <br />"The Parson and the Priest be darned!" <br /> I've heard him say: <br />Yet when his baby is concerned <br /> He's quick to pray. <br /> <br />Maybe it's gentle parent-hood <br /> That gives us grace, <br />And in its sacrificial mood <br /> Uplifts the race. <br />Of sentiment, all self above, <br /> That goodness sums <br />I think the saving best is Love <br /> For little ones.<br /><br />Robert William Service<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/bill-s-prayer/
