Against His Inclination

Dad tried his best when I was young
to fix it in my mind
that “as the tiny twig is bent,
so is the tree inclined”
And when he’d lay me ‘cross his knee
on punishment intent,
I used to cry, “Say, Dad, look out,
or I’ll grow up all bent!”

And when he’d say, “Come on, young man,
and weed the onion bed,”
just when I’d planned a fishing trip
with Johnny Jones instead,
I used to scowl until my face
was black as black could be,
and mutter then, “When I grow up
I’ll be humpbacked–you’ll see!”

But years have come and years have gone,
with many a care and trouble,
with many a load that for a time
has bent me nearly double;
But always I’ve sprung back again
before it was too late–
For though he made me bend a bit,
‘Twas Dad who made me straight.

Author Unknown — But a Wise Man Indeed!

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About Christine Goodnough

Sixty-something wife, grandma, home-maker and nature lover at home on the Canadian prairies, writes about life's joys and sorrows with a dash of humor and from a Christian perspective. Unless otherwise stated, I've written the posts on this blog or have retold an account in my owns words. Please respect my rights as author.
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