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Genesis 1:1-2:4a; Psalm 8; 2 Corinthians 13:11-13; Matthew 28:16-20
On this Father’s Day Sunday, a poem by Walt McCanless
Dads… “Round to it.”
When there’s something to be done, dads do it.
cut grass, trim hedges, there’s no ‘round to it…
Unless asked by his wife to fix the leaky toilet,
and hang the mirror, wash the deck and don’t forget that squeaky hinge –
why won’t you oil it?
I’ll get ‘round to it dear, just as soon as I can,
Right now I’m helping the neighbor, he needs a hand,
He’s been watching the Open, studying the pros,
If he can master their strokes, and read greens like that, keep his eye on the ball,
he’ll be shooting new lows.
I’ve promised to help him, the least I can do
So we’re studying the pros for another hole or two
Then we’re off to the course, to hit, pitch and putt.
But I’ll get ‘round to it dear, a round of golf that is, then a round or two of
pitchers of brew, and then I’ll be home but,
I don’t know if I’ll be much use,
In such a weakened state of alcohol abuse.
Why a broken mirror could bring bad luck,
and with my balance so shaky, and my back a bit achy, a slippery deck is not a
place to be stuck.
The toilet can go on leaking,
While I’m on the couch sleeping
It won’t bother me a bit,
‘Cause I’ll get ‘round to it, after the Spurs beat the Heat, and the Braves avoid
defeat, and you go ballistic in a fit.