When I Was A Young Boy

When I was a young boy I was mean; My mom said that I was a wrecking machine, I broke windows and I also started fires But, of course that was added unto my past priors, As a young child I always tugged at my mom's skirt With my hand full of mischief and my face covered with dirt, She was my mother and I of course was her forgivable son What she saw as bad and impish, I saw as excitement and fun. When I got older I then began to tug at my mom's heart Never did she tell me to leave her alone and depart, She raised me and taught me the best that any parent could She was the force and the strength in my childhood, Because of her I grew straight and truthful into a righteous man With of course help from God, which was my mom's ultimate plan, I still remember her shouting and her constant nagging and prayer Sometimes she even begged God, asking why wasn't he there, But, then if mom never received any help from the Lord She most certainly always did, with her switch or pine board. Randy L. McClave