It's oh, my little laddie, as you're romping at your play
There's an old heart running with you every minute of the day;
And though you cannot see me when you're wrapped up in a game,
But it's I that am beside you in your striving just the same.
It is oh, my little laddie, there is much you cannot know,
But it's I that follow proudly everywhere you chance to go;
There's a hand upon your shoulder, wheresoever you may be,
That would help you out of danger, and that hand belongs to me.
It is oh, my little laddie, though you cannot hear me call,
I am always there to help you every time you chance to fall;
I am with you in the school room and I'm with you on the street,
And though you may not know it, I am dogging at your feet.
It's oh, my little laddie, all my life belongs to you,
All the dreams that I have cherished through the years depend on you;
And though now you cannot know it, you shall some day come to see
How this old heart loved to hover 'round a boy that used to be.
The Boy
A possible man of affairs,
A possible leader of men,
Back of the grin that he wears
There may be the courage of ten;
Lawyer or merchant or priest,
Artist or singer of joy,
This, when his strength is increased,
Is what may become of the boy.
Heedless and mischievous now,
Spending his boyhood in play,
Yet glory may rest on his brow
And fame may exalt him some day;
A skill that the world shall admire,
Strength that the world shall employ
And faith that shall burn as a fire,
Are what may be found in the boy.
He with the freckles and tan,
He with that fun-loving grin,
May rise to great heights as a man
And many a battle may win;
Back of the slang of the streets
And back of the love of a toy,
It may be a Great Spirit beats—
Lincoln once played as a boy.
Trace them all back to their youth,
All the great heroes we sing,
Seeking and serving the Truth,
President, poet and king,
Washington, Caesar and Paul,
Homer who sang about Troy,
Jesus, the Greatest of all,
Each in his time was a boy.