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Michael Smith
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I Brought My Father with Me
I brought my Father with me.
Hope that you don't mind.
I couldn't find it in me, to make him stay behind.
Tonight the snow has fallen.
The trees are white and old.
Their heavy branches bending.
Can we come in from the cold?
I brought my Father with me, though it's been many years, since he'd go down to Dolan's for a shot and a couple of beers.
When he'd take me with him and he would buy me a Coke, surely made my day.
Now I take my Father with me, turnabouts fair play.
Car trips to Pennsylvania, when all of us would sing.
And he sang Bells of St.
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Mary's, and he sounded just like Bing.
Summer days down at the shore, remembering how he would bless himself with foam before he'd dive into the sea.
There are some ways I'm just like him.
Some ways he was just like me.
And sometimes when the mirror's dim, his face is clear to see.
Tonight the winds of heaven
blow the stars across the sky.
I brought my father with me.
I couldn't say goodbye.
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