Pa

The last thing I remember,
From life with that old guy,
Was the trick he played on everyone,
With that dang old nasty eye,

Always rugged on the outside,
He was a master work of art,
But I could see the grace of God,
Dwelling deep within his heart,

Although they asked for final words,
There's not enough that I could say,
No poem, no song, no literature,
Would be worthy to portray,

See Joseph Grass he was my Pa,
And His face I'll always miss,
But now he dances with our God,
In the place of eternal bliss.

R.S. 08/04