Poem 1 by Raymond Dale Everingham, 1941

Poem by Raymond Dale Everingham
February 16th, 1941
Reference his first son
Eugene "Gene" Everingham.

"My Son"

I have a son thats three years old,   He is my pide and joy.
No other lad could take his place,   He's just the real McCoy.
He's light complexioned and has light hair,   Brown eyes, and full of pep.
To me, he's all a son could be   More than a father could expect.
He's boy all through, he loves fun and sports,   The same as I once had.
And no-one dares to say a thing,   Against me, his gray-haired dad.
He talks of hunting and fishing trips,   Say's - When season opens, he'll be glad,
He'll catch beaver and otter and mustrat too,   When he gets big like dad!
Now, I suppose most father's feel the same,   About their little sons.
Just watching and waiting for the day   When They'll be able to handle guns.
Especially if you live up-North,   Where there is so much sport to be had.
Which you know they will appreciate,   The same, as you, their dad.
A father's life is at its best,   When he has a little son.
Just to love and watch him grow up,    In a good-old North-woods home.
For when a boy he will learn the woods,    And where the streams and lakes are at,
He will learn of every river's bend,    And just how and where to set a trap.
He will know of all the best fishing spots,   Where the best hunting can be found.
And when visited by his city friends,   He will show them all around.
He will learn to Ski and Snowshoe too,   He is sure to make the North his home,
For what is there could offer more,   When he as older-grown.
He will meet a girl and settle down,    They will make themselves a home.
They will find a little spot like dad's,   And raise a family of their own.
It's then his mind will wander back,   To the times that he once had.
And the picture that will be in his mind,   Will be the picture of him and dad.

transcribed by
Kevin Everingham
2006
My grandfather writing
about my uncle.