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Honestly

A home to grow up slowly in,
An education unsurpassed,
Her mother and I gave her all our love,
Yet the boys she brings home are trash.

Honestly, I hate the boys whom my daughter dates.
I don't know how it's possible that she associates
with such immature, loathsome, boring company.
Oh, why can't she find a man a little more like me?

When we talk it's interesting: politics and art.
She listens well, and sometimes makes a challenging remark.
How can she ever hope to find this kind of give and take,
when the mind of every boy she meets is one of God's mistakes?

It's amazing how her boyfriends manage to combine,
Every sordid trait of an age that's in decline.
Let them row their lives away with one oar in the water,
But woe to him whose other oar splashes near my daughter.

Honestly, I hate the boys whom my daughter dates.
I don't know how it's possible that she associates
with such immature, loathsome, boring company.
Oh, why can't she find a man a little more like me?

Even when the girl was young, she surpassed her peers.
A sophisticated approach to life which was well beyond her years.
While others labored valiantly to see if Spot could run,
She'd complete the crossword which I had left undone.

Unfortunately, it's clear to see I'm doomed to be her father:
A disappearing phantom about whom she needn't bother.
Still, if she'd give me half a chance of playing Cupid's part,
I'm sure I'd aim more knowingly, and strike a worthy heart.

Don't snicker. It's healthy. It's very, very, very healthy!
I'm a man who accepts his fate.
But please don't judge me harshly just because I know
she's deserves a man like me as her mate.

Honestly, I hate the boys whom my daughter dates.
I don't know how it's possible that she associates
with such immature, loathsome, boring company.
Oh, why can't she find a man a little more like me?

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Gene Scheer

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