From the Rock Island Argus, October 10, 1913. By Henry Howland.
The papers scold my pa; they say
Bad things about him every day,
And often ma begins to cry
When she looks at the paper—then
I kind of get to wishin’ I
Could lick a few newspaper men.
Pa doesn’t care; he says no man
That tries to do the best he can
To get ahead and help along
Has any right to think they’ll not
Hurrah about it when he’s wrong
Or prod him in his sorest spot.
I don’t blame ma for feelin’ sad
Because they say my pa is bad;
He’s always good to her and me,
And when her eyes were wet, one day,
He kissed us both and said that he
Had joys they couldn’t take away.
One time they had his picture so
He looked like old Nick down below—
I wish the papers all would please
Just print nice things about my pa
To make him always glad, for he’s
The dearest pa I ever saw.