Is anyone else’s dad extremely hard to buy for? That’s why this year I decided to write my dad a poem. It didn’t cost anything but I find it was a more personal present which was appreciated and received well enough.

A fountain of knowledge.

The best maker of porridge.

A teller of stories

and a hater of Tories.

You taught me how to fly a kite

soaring to its highest height.

To own any old car is not alright.

Unless a campervan, mini or MG

Pie, mash, liquor and tea.

Cookie monster biscuits and pate crackers with me.

Bakewell tarts and viennetta –

does it get any better?

Fizzy kittens and parsley lions

with flying holiday shoes.

Cuddles and snuggles.

Don’t splash in those puddles

without some wellington boots.

Watch thunderbird puppets

take off in their rockets

with the help of some gassy beans.

While all four queens

chase that ace

in one big laughable race.

But for the inventor of games

And silly little nicknames

one breakfast in never enough.

Bread and butter is a rotten supper,

I’ll have more elvensies instead.

So Father, Father

what a day

to celebrate you

in this way.

I thank you for your love and care.

All I have now

is to declare

that I love you beyond compare.

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