Praise Song To Parents Poem by Sandy Fulton

She had a piano teacher who'd fled
The Nazis, and school teachers who led
This redhead till they filled her head.

But no one ever taught her more
Than Mom and Dad, how to explore
And open every wondrous door.

With no sons and just one daughter,
A father should do what he ought'er,
And that is why her father taught her

Saw and hammer, brace & bit,
Spirit level, sanding grit,
Measuring tape to make things fit,

Masking tape and safety specs,
Philips screws and Allen hex,
And all the rest for all projects.

Dad taught his daughter how to build,
Held the hardwood while she drilled,
And, with fun, the weekend filled.

He taught his girl to pitch and bat,
Take care of turtle, dog and cat,
And seldom was an autocrat.

But Dad was often traveling—
Home for weekends, then they'd sing
And do all sorts of everything.

Mom, too, was clever with that stuff,
When Dad was working, times were tough,
She did them well, she knew enough

To be a quite good handyman,
And also how to type and plan,
Garden, bookkeep, iron and can;

Turned leftovers into stew,
Sewed their old clothes into new,
All while working full-time, too.

She loved operas by Rossini,
Leading Brownies, wearing the beanie,
How to cook a feast—or weenie.

They taught so many other things—
With stories that a big smile brings,
And songs that their old girl still sings!