When Daddy prays, he doesn't use
The words the preacher does;
There's different things for different days
But mostly it's for us.

When Daddy prays, the house is still,
His voice is slow and deep.
We shut our eyes, the clock ticks loud.
So quiet we must keep.

He prays that we may be good boys,
And later on good men.
And then we squirm, and think we won't
Have any quarrels again.

You'd never think, to look at Dad,
He once had tempers too.
I guess if Daddy needs to pray.
We youngsters surely do.

Sometimes the prayer gets very long
And hard to understand
And then I wiggle up quite close
And let him hold my hand.

I can't remember all of it
I'm little yet, you see.
But one thing I cannot forget
My Daddy prays for me!