Daughters Bring
Bells, that ring
Birds, who sing
Butterflies, on the wing
Clothes, too short, too cling
Songs, I would not sing
I don't know, what's that thing
A phone, that never stops its ring
Going to school, to hear them sing
Kisses, for that sore bee sting
On the car, a new ding
When their sad, they need to cling
Soon enough, up they spring
Full of life, off they zing
New boy-friends, home they bring
Soon I know, there may be, a ring
A wedding after, perhaps in spring
Hoping, it's, a far off thing
Kisses and hugs, for me, the king
These are the treasures, that Daughters bring
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