A boy named Poo

Well, daddy ran out on mom and me
Hit the road in a Ford, an LTD
With a jug a' shine, and a waitress, he hardly knew
Guess, he had a right to cut and run
Cause Ma'd just nag at everything he done,
He wasn't mean at all, but he used to call me, "Poo"

Not a good nickname, but, it caught and stuck
Then, as I grew up and got to drive my own truck
There wasn't very much about it, I could do
Just as sure as heck, everybody would
Call out to me, as loud as they could
With a big old friendly greeting, "Hey there, Poo!"

All my friends poked fun, took a lot of tease
In school and out, used to beg 'em "Please!"
That ain't no kind of name to call a man..
It's awful stuff comes from a rear
Sometimes I'd pretend that I didn't hear
Until they'd choose to use my first name, Dan

Well, the years rolled by and I took a wife
Raised a family, and lived a quiet life
Good job, a real nice home, and things went fine
Till mom passed on, and it hit me bad
Then, it got me to thinkin' about my dad
And wond'rin how he was doin' on down the line

Though I'd heard no word in all these years
Had a few photographs, and souvenoirs
In an album that I'd dig out every Father's Day
My favorite was one of him and me
In a cowboy suit, sittin' on his knee
On the back, 'Dad and Poo, age 4''s words did say

Ran a search for hours on the Internet
Lookin' through all the records that I could get
But I never got lucky to locate his address
Still, I prayed with every dead end lead
That the next might be the one I'd need
To finally ease my paternal lonliness

Not findin' my dad, kind a' stuck in my craw
Cause I wanted my sons to know their grandpaw
But I had tried every way I could to reconnect
As a paramedic, I was workin' part time
When a 9-1-1 call we heard chime
Out on the interstate there'd been a real bad wreck

Just minutes later, when we did arrive
We wondered how anybody could survive
Such a terrible crash, it was the worst we'd ever seen
Happened just a mile from Brewster Pass,
A badly injured man layin' on the grass,
We gurneyed him into the back of our machine

As I was checkin' out his I.D. card
It shook me up, and I swallowed hard
Cause his name was the same as mine was, Dan McHugh
He said, "It bothered me what I had done,
So, I was on my way back to see ya' Son.."
And then the dying words he spoke were, "So long, Poo"

Before next morning's news broadcast
I was interveiwed, because word spread fast
About the dyin' man, and of him bein' my Dad, too
At eight, the TV girl reporter came
I softly said, as she asked my name
"Well, it's really Dan, but you can just call me, Poo"

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