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A storehouse of knowledge,
To me as a lad
I’d miss school deliberately
To sit with you dad

For hours by the fire
You’d tell me tale after tale
Those signposts you left
Helped me to not fail

The scent of the turned sod
In the misty morning dew
With your woodbine in a spud field
I loved being there with you

The gentlest Being I ever encountered
Thriving on harmony
Every word from your precious breathe
A gift to those who’d see

You were a Shepard without a stick
The teacher without the cane
Giving always giving
Not looking for repaying