Mama, I wish we were young again
And waitin' for Daddy to come home.
He'd be out in the fields a-plowin'
And the collie'd go out there to roam,


And you'd cook a big meal for dinner
And then we'd pack it all in the car
With a cotton cloth from the table
And iced tea with lemon in a jar.


We'd drive to the place he was workin'
And you'd spread out the cloth on the ground--
He'd stop at the end of the furrow
And show us a young rabbit he'd found.


I'd hold it and pet it and love it
And then we'd let it go free
And Daddy would look at you proud-like
With faith in the way things would be.


After eatin' he'd lie down a moment
For a rest, before startin' once more,
And we'd pack dishes and fold up the cloth
And go home to continue our chores.


And somehow you'd finish the housework
And still have time to sit down with me
And read about Little Brown Koko
Or just watch the clouds blowin' free.



How I wish we were all young again
With the summer's long days and warm nights,
Waitin' for Daddy to come home from the field,
Wash up for supper, and kiss me good night.


Now those tree-lined hayfields are empty
And so's Daddy's cane-bottomed chair,
But sometimes in quiet evenin's
I can almost see him over there.


And he's rearin' back on the hind legs
With his back propped against the wall
And he's watchin' Mama cookin'
And outside the whippoorwill calls.


And they talk mostly about their day,
All the things they've seen and heard,
While I play with dolls in the corner
And listen, with never a word.


Then the kerosene lamplight would flicker
As problems seemed to be healed--
That's how it was when we were all young,
And Daddy came home from the field.

Francine Roark Robison
© 2002 October 17
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From Psalm 104
He watereth the hills from his chambers:
the earth is satisfied with the fruit of
thy works.
He causeth the grass to grow for the cattle,
and herb for the service of man: that he
may bring forth food out of the earth.