We sat on the porch
which he called the galri.
From twilight till bedtime, on his knee I did sit.
We counted the jeeps of World War II.
We counted them up to 100.
Old Highway 80
was lit up for miles.
Streams of light, bright in the dark.
Papa taught me my numbers that way.

When Papa felt hungry
he'd go to the kitchen
Make milk and bread in glasses of beauty
Some liked it in bowls
Others in pans
But for Papa and me, it was glasses.
Here gal, you hungry?

We talked of the moon
my Papa and me,
It's the harvest moon we see
Orangey and big.
"It always rises in the east.
"If you look real hard You will see, it's a man
and his dog in the moon."
Since Papa's been gone
I've never seen a moon that didn't have
a man and his dog.

When the twilight set in
on the porch as we sat
There was a bird, in the woods
close by
We listen my Papa and me
The song he sang, we did repeat:
"Chip flew off the whit' oak."

On the porch as we sat
My Papa and me.
If the stars came out
My papa did say,
"Find the dippers."
And then he'd show me
the dippers two
Both big and small.
Since Papa's been gone
When the stars come out
I see the dippers and Papa
So as you can see
it's still as it was
My Dear old Papa and me.