My Daddy, he caught the most wonderful fish--there were thin ones and fat ones and round, And some were so long that their tails when he walked would be dragging right down on the ground; He scraped off their scales on a log that he had at the woodpile, and said he would know That log just as well if he saw it today, although that was a long time ago. He used to dig worms of a wonderful size--he has never seen any like those Since he was grown up; and on Saturdays he wore a wonderful old suit of clothes And a hat that an uncle of his had forgot, for on Friday he did all his sums, And Saturday always he went off somewhere with his one or two wonderful chums.
My Daddy, he lived in a wonderful place when he was a twelve-year-old lad, For no matter what kind of a day it might be there was always some fun to be had. He learned how to swim in a wonderful creek, where all of the whole summer long The water was warm, and the springboard they had it was springy and slippery and strong. And on the way home they found berries to eat, and he said he remembers them well, And it didn’t seem nearly a mile to back home, for there always was something to tell That took up the time both for him and his chums, and sometimes they came home a new way, And always all summer they had it all planned what to do on the next Saturday.
My Daddy, he said he could go back there now and could take me as straight as a string To all of the wonderful places he knew--where the first flowers came in the spring; Where you almost were sure to catch fish in the brook--where the nuts would come dropping in fall; Where the most berries were on the way to back home--he is sure he remembers them all. He knows where the squirrels were most apt to be, and the lane where the hay wagon comes; And said he’d find names in the bark of a tree that were cut there by him and his chums Twenty-five years ago, and the log where they sat when they found the big garter-snake curled. My Daddy, he must have had wonderful times in the splendidest place in the world!
I wonder if you still remember them, Bill, The fresh morning glories that crept up the sill And nodded at us when the night time was gone And curtains thrown open to let in the dawn; The light over there, and the edge of the sun That blazed on the hill when the day was begun, The air on our cheeks and the sparkle of dew, Our hearts and our hopes like the day that was new.