There are little eyes upon you
And they’re watching night and day;
There are little ears that quickly
Take in every word you say;
There are little hands all eager
To do anything you do;
And a little boy who’s dreaming
Of the day he’ll be like you.
You’re the little fellow’s idol,
You’re the wisest of the wise.
In his little mind about you
No suspicions ever rise.
He believes in you devoutly,
Hold all that you say and do;
He will say and do in your way
When he’s a grown-up like you.
There’s a wide-eyed little fellow
Who believes you’re always right
And his ears are always open
And he watches day and night.
You are setting an example
Every day in all you do,
For the little boy who’s waiting
To grow up to be like you.
The Man in the Glass
When you get what you want in your struggle for self
And the world makes you king for a day,
Just go to a mirror and look at yourself,
And see what THAT man has to say.
For it isn’t your father or mother or wife
Whose judgment upon you must pass;
The fellow whose verdict counts most in your life
Is the one staring back from the glass.
You may be like Jack Horner and chisel a plum
And think you’re a wonderful guy,
But the man in the glass says you’re only a bum
If you can’t look him straight in the eye.
He’s the fellow to please, never mind all the rest,
For he’s with you clear up to the end,
And you’ve passed your most dangerous, difficult test
If the man in the glass is your friend.
You may fool the whole world down the pathway of years
And get pats on the back as you pass,
But your final reward will be heartaches and tears
If you’ve cheated the man in the glass.
The Man on the Bench
The man on the bench is the man for me
He’s not the star, but he’s the key .
Without his aid and help each day,
I doubt if there would be a play.
Every run by a team on “big game” day
He holds the dummy and shows the way when
The other team runs that certain play.
When not being clocked, he’s chasing punts.
Or shagging fly balls, and fielding bunts,
Or a hundred and one other useful stunts.
He’s always the “skins” against the “shirts”,
And the night of the game he sits and hurts,
He helps with equipment, and picks up balls.
Sets up the hurdles, and takes the falls,
But is always ready when some coach calls.
He’s not on the sports page every time
When a “dollar” is waiting, he’s the “dime”
He comes to the banquet with a little prayer,
Hoping this year the “letter” is there.
As he squirms wishfully in his chair.
And he suffers a little along with his coach,
As the names are read and no approach
Is made to him there is a wrench
In his heart. But his teeth will clench,
As he says, “next year”, this man on the bench.
What happens to all the men like these.
Who seem, all elbows, thumbs, and knees.
Don’t feel sorry for their frustrations,
They are the men who head corporations,
And sit on the councils of great nations.
They learn the value of raw sheer grit,
The determination that won’t say quit.
The value of facing rugged strife
To face the gun with just a knife,
They learn how to make a fight in life.
To the man on the bench I give my hand
With the greatest respect, ’cause he’s my man,
Please don’t worry, he’ll go far
Be it jet propulison or motor car,
Somewhere in life, he will be a star.