My Father sang his songs to me,
but I, for so long deaf,
heard his melodies and words
only a decade before he died.
So, I had, instead of sixty,
rather ten years to learn
how to sing our songs with him.
Now I sing my songs to his soul,
where ever it may be.
I hope he’s listening.
He was never very good at that,
having made his mind thirty, forty years
before I knew my own.
I hope he enjoys hearing
our words sung now to our melodies,
with a few alterations.