Papa Paul Anka

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Everyday my papa would work
To help to make ends meet
To see that we would eat
Keep those shoes upon my feet

Every night my papa would take and
Tuck me in my bed
Kiss me on my head
After all my prayers were said

Growing up with him was easy
Time just flew on by
The years began to fly
He aged and so did I

I could tell
That mama wasn't well
Papa knew and deep down so did she, so did she
When she died
Papa broke down and cried
All he said was: "God, why not take me?"

Every night he sat there sleeping in his walking chair
He never went upstairs
All because she wasn't there
Then one day my Papa said:
"Son, I'm proud the way you've grown
Make it on your own. Oh, I'll be O.K. alone."