My Father’s Heir

My father’s heir, my father’s heir,

No one to claim

My father’s name;

No one’s my father’s heir.

When I was born, my father moved

Away somewhere up north.

He took a job, which he then proved,

Would give him much more worth.

My childhood ears heard tales of this

And adding so and so

Came up with why I must him miss:

He’s died in North T.O.

My father’s heir, my father’s heir,

He felt such shame,

He was the blame;

So, too, my father’s err.

All through my youth I dreamt of him

As if he were a star.

To honour him, I called him Jim

And promised to go far.

I got good marks in school, at home

I’d help mom with my sis,

So that he’d see, from Heaven’s dome,

How I deserved his kiss.

My father’s heir, my father’s heir,

I did not claim

The Miller name;

I had my father’s air.

When I grew up and had a son

I saw a strange obit:

James Stewart died, but the best one

Was my mom’s name on it.

I called her up and we did laugh

At synchronicity;

The missing link I’d missed by half

I’ll tell now: it’s witty.

My father’s heir, my father’s heir

My childhood name

Was not the same

As was my father’s heir.

My mom sent me a page or three,

This made my face a frown.

It seems that he’s in Sudbury

And so I tracked him down.

By asking for his telephone

I got his address, too.

I wrote a note, a little moan,

And asked, “Can I see you?”

My father’s heir, my father’s heir

O’ercame his shame

And found his name

To be my father’s heir.

My father’s hair, my father’s hair:

I’m really game

To take his name;

I’ve got my father’s hair!