way:
We hardly ever see him at the first meal of the
day.
Ma puts his food before him and he settles in
his place
An' then he props the paper up and we can't
see his face;
We hear him blow his coffee and we hear him
chew his toast,
But it's for the morning paper that he seems
to care the most.

Ma says that little children mighty grateful
ought to be
To the folks that fixed the evening as the proper
time for tea.
She says if meals were only served to people
once a day,
An' that was in the morning just before Pa goes
away,
We'd never know how father looked when he
was in his place,
Coz he'd always have the morning paper stuck
before his face.

He drinks his coffee steamin' hot, an' passes
Ma his cup
To have it filled a second time, an' never once
looks up.
He never has a word to say, but just sits there