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From the red hills of Mississippi
With no high degrees after his name
Is one who is loved so dearly
He needs no great wealth or fame.

Pure Scotch Irish in spirit he is!
And in him there is no guile
For he is a true Southern Gentleman
Who tips his hat in Southern style.

In his heart I hold a special place
My sister do too, I know
but the bond between my dad and me
Well needs no words to make it so.

All the things you taught me are held dear
Each one as a fabulous pearl
And I have a necklace to hold in memory
Reminding me of when I was a little girl.

You taught me of God's power and wisdom
When I was a child at your knee
And that I must live my life wisely
For this is what you wanted for me!

Dearest Dad, my truest friend
Whose hope for me is skies of blue
Rainbows to turn dark shadows to sweet dreams
All this, and pride is my heritage from you.

You had no sons to follow your path
And I wonder if your heart was ever sad
But Dad the two proudest words I have ever spoken
Were these two words -- My Dad!

Helen Helms Howard
Dedicated to my parents: Lucille & Virgil Helms
Copyrighted 1973






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