In eighteen hundred ninety-three
A precious gift was given me,

Tho I could hardly know its worth,
Some forty years before my birth,

A person, loving, tender, warm
Was born on some Missouri farm,

One of four strong sons was he
And full of mirth and honesty,

Out West, his Pappy bade him go --
His love he found in Idaho,

But not before he'd gone to France,
Then west again to find romance,

In nineteen-thirty said, "I do,"
A love to last a lifetime, too,

Doing a mother's work was she
When first he took her on his knee,

Said, "Sweetheart, you're a woman grown,
It's time you had a home, your own"

Married with only five bucks in his pocket,
But love in their hearts and a car like a rocket,

Model T Ford, Tin Lizzie to some
Was all between them and using his thumb,

In fact it was luxury riding sublime,
And gas was still cheaper than hay at the time,

Two sons, in the thirties, to this couple were born --
There might have been more, but along came the war an'

You can't grow shoes in a Victory Garden,
"Us four and no more, Amen" had its start then,

Although we were young at the time of the war
And had little money, still something much more

Important to last us through all of our days
Was ours, just by virtue of them and our praise

Belongs to them always, this man and his wife --
Mother and Father, who gave us our life,

By shining examples of living and love
Rate eternal bliss in a heaven above.

                                                       by D. Edgar Murray