  LET us dry our tears now, laddie, Let us put aside our woes; Let us go and talk to daddy, For I’m sure that daddy knows. Let us take him what we’ve broken, Be it heart or hope or toy, And the tale may bide unspoken, For he used to be a boy. He has been through all the sorrows Of a lad at nine or ten; He has seen the dawn of morrows When the sun shone bright again; His own heart has been near breaking, Oh, more times than I can tell, And has often known the aching That a boy’s heart knows so well. I am sure he well remembers, In his calendar of days, When the boy-heart was December’s, Though the sun and flowers were May’s. He has lived a boy’s life, laddie, And he knows just how it goes; Let us go and talk to daddy, For I’m sure that daddy knows. Let us tell him all about it, How the sting of it is there, And I have not any doubt it Will be easier to bear; For he’s trodden every byway, He has fathomed every joy, He has traveled every highway In the wide world of a boy. He will put aside the worries That his day may follow through, For the great heart of him hurries At the call for help from you. He will help us mend the broken Heart of ours or hope or toy, And the tale may bide unspoken— For he used to be a boy. |
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