My Dad. My Dad was a can-do man, All the kids used to call him Superman, The boys at Brandon’s school, Thought he was ever so cool, When he told them he changed in a red phone box, They really believed him – the sly fox. James and George and Jack and Jack and Terence and James, Used to call him baldy names, They would sing “I don’t know what I’ve been told, Neil’s head shines like gold.” He always banged his head, blood and gore came pouring out, It used to make Dad scream and shout. When we were at the caravan park me, Curtis and the boys, Collected wood and made lots of noise, Banging, sawing with all the tools, We were forever breaking the rules. Dad put it up, the warden took it down, But meantime we played around. Dad played football quite a lot, He was goalie so not a good shot. He played for Millhouse in the Sunday league, When they lost he got quite peeved. They often lost but just one time they won a cup, And drank champagne all covered in muck. Dad played pool on a Tuesday night, He never looked to pick a fight, He was a generous man and kind, Always with his family in mind, Sweets for us, flowers for Mum, We respected him to Kingdom come. Dad was always ready to help out, He made sure our house would never have drought, If he could do anyone a favour – Even our next door neighbour, He’d be there, reliable as they come, Especially if it was for our Mum. I even miss his smelly farts, But he had such a big heart, We love and miss him, I wish I could turn round and kiss him, No-one is perfect, not even my Dad, But he was the best Dad anyone could ever have had.