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Poem by Robert William Service
Franklin fathered bastards fourteen, (So I read in the New Yorker); If it's true, in terms of courtin' Benny must have been a corker. To be prudent I've aspired, And my passions I have mastered; So that I have never sired A single bastard. One of course can never know; But I think that if I had It would give me quite a glow When a kiddie called me 'Dad.' Watching toddlers at their play, Parentage I'd gladly claim, But their mothers smiling say: 'You're not to blame.' Ben founded the Satevepost, And for that I much respect him; But fourteen is quite a host Paternally to elect him. 'Fatherhood is not a crime,' Deemed fat Ben, 'there could be others... Darlings, I had not the time To wed your mothers.'
Robert William Service
Robert William Service's other poems:
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