MY FABULOUS FOUR
By Billie Cullimore

Hallmarks shelves are weighted down
With cards for sons they do abound.
I'm sure there's a card for every day,
Each one tries hard to help convay
The pride we have for our dear boy
But, only another mother understands the joy.

You turn all the pages to find the right one.
The one that extols, "MY SON, MY SON."
When I look up at my four boys.
Then I look back at the childhood toys.
It started out with dogs, cats and rabbets,
Horses and hamsters got to be a habbet.
Lets not forget the snakes and the hawk.

Guess who ended up feeding this lot?

We suffered through the trumpet, piano,
drums and clarinet, foot-ball, parades and
the basket-ball net.
Moter bikes, boats, skis and sleds, trucks,
skates and drivers ed.

Learning to drive and, Oh!
Dear Lord just keep them alive.

Cars and girls and the Junior Prom.
Army, Marines, and Viet-Nam.
Some were there to answer the call.
There's not enough Hallmarks to cover it all.

Michael, Bradley, Tracey and Chip.
Rearing this crew was quite a trip.
With pride I view them, accomplished and
handsom.
This surely must be a mothers ransom.