Jai, Jai, his Papa's son,
Comes home at half past one,
In the rain or in the sun,
Straightaway asks for lunch,
Is it ready, is it done.
Jai, Jai, his Papa's son,
Look at the way he runs,
Over a clean pair of heels,
Knocking a pair of buns,
As he disappears into the hills,
That is how fast he runs.
2 comments:
Ha ha! What a delightful tribute to your son! I can see him running across the football field back home in my mind's eye right now.
CO78: "Tribute" is an apt word. He will read the poem and your comment when he's older and be the richer for it. God bless him and you.
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