Classic Poem

Good-by, my son, good-by,
My poor wayward boy!
You are breaking your poor father's heart;
He loves you, and believed
That you would mend your way
And would from bad habits depart.

But alas, it seems hopeless, hopeless,
When I think of you now a man,
And still seem perfectly contented
With throwing your earnings to the winds.

Stop and think for a moment!
Your time is fair spent, and soon life
With you will be at a close;
You had better be saving your earnings
For something that will do you good.

You will soon be counted with men and things of the past,
And nothing to your credit will note when you are spoken of by name;
The world will only laugh, for they won't even remember your name.

Now you cannot be a back number with your intellect and brain;
Save your time and credit and put your earnings out to work,
And say, “I will have something and show the world I am a man.”

Then you will make your father happy
When he thinks, “My son has accomplished
To make my old age brighter,
And give me happiness in the end.

“I have worked and toiled and struggled
To give him all of the chance to stand
Side by side with any hero in this broad and noted land;
He can get to be a hero and make himself a noble man,”

Now if you will stop and think,
My son, what God expects of you,
You will surely turn around
And find something good to do

That will make your name a credit
And will drown the awful past,
And make me feel so proud of you
To know that you are a creditable man at last.