• Author: Unknown
• Editor: B-8266
• Newspaper: The Umpire volume V
• Page Number:
• Date: 10 9 1918
• Tags:
• poetry
• friendship

FRIENDSHIP

He may be all kinds of a liar, He may be most kinds of a fool; He may be the kind of high flyer, That knows neither reason nor rule. T here may be dark shadows above him, Of ruin and woe that impend; I may notrespect - I just love him, Because he’s my friend.

I’m sure he has faults by the billion, But I’ll not be casting a stone; I know that his record’s vermilion, -but I know what I know of my own- He’s always been square with ‘yours truly’, Ready to give or to lend; And I love him, tho wild and unruly, Because he’s my friend.

I knock him, I know, but I do it, To his face, and never his back; And if other folks knock him, they rue it, If I’m near to get in a crack. I make no analysis of him, I know he’ll ring true at the end; I don’t criticise, I just love him, Because he’s my friend.