| He’s a young man |
| In his golden years |
| His hair of black now quickly fades to gray |
| The limp as he walks is his only souvenir |
| From those purple-hearted war time days |
| But you don’t hear him complain |
| No matter how the fall |
| I don’t have a lot, he’d smile and say |
| But lord I have it all |
| He’s a hero |
| In my mother’s eyes |
| He taught her how to raise me right |
| And never compromise |
| He always says he has the |
| Finer things in life |
| Somewhere to live, someone to love |
| And the Good book to live by |
| Some say his heart is big |
| All though his fortune’s small |
| I don’t have a lot, he’d smile and say |
| But lord I have it all |
| A rembrandt in his own right |
| A master at his craft |
| Creating something beautiful |
| A memory that will last |
| And always last |
| He’s the constant |
| In our family |
| Beginning this long line of love |
| We’ve cared |
| And even when he’s gone he’ll watch over me |
| When I close my eyes at night I feel him there |
| Wear my name, well my child |
| Be true and stand tall |
| You don’t have a lot he’d always say |
| But lord you have it all |
| You don’t have a lot he’d always say |
| But thank the Lord you have it all |
| Hero in my mother’s eyes |