“The Good Dad”

“The Good Dad”
By Emil Kubek

There’s no type of dad
Like the one that we have.
A week will pass by
Before we see the guy.
Our neighbors have jobs,
But dad’s just a slob.
We’re sitting in class
When he gets off his ass.
Sometime around noon,
He crawls from his room.
He’s nowhere near clean,
When he puts on his jeans.
“Gimme some change!”
He asks, then complains
Over breakfast in bed,
As he reads the want ads.
It’s been almost ten years,
He’s been bringing mom tears!
He always takes money
From our hard-working mommy,
But it doesn’t go far,
Once he walks in the bar.
There it’s easy to find,
Other men of his kind,
Ones just like our dad,
Who need work really bad.
Until deep in the night,
They drink down their troubles,
And occasionally fight.
After we finish eating,
And are just about sleeping,
We wish once again,
That our dad tucked us in.
If he’d find a career,
Would we see him more often,
Like a few times a year?
At seven on Sunday,
We get ready together,
No matter the weather,
And all go to church.
But dad is still snoring,
He thinks church is boring
His way to be blessed,
Is to get lots of rest!
When we return to the house
We can’t find the louse,
But it’s not hard to know,
Where dad likes to go.
Oh will he ever find
A job in the mines?
Yes, there’s no type of dad,
Like the one that we have.


Translated by Nick Kupensky


  • Emilij A. Kubek, “Dobryj Tato,” Narodny povísti i stichi, tom 1 (Scranton: OBRANA, 1922), 5-6.

For more information about “The Good Dad,” see The West End Cafe.

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