I KNOW, MY SON

[As the generations move on]:

Why was it, oh, my son, my son,
I knew so much when you were one?
And when you got to nearly four
And knew so much, I still knew more?
But when your years had grown to ten
I didn't know quite so much then,
And when your teen years came along
You told me all I knew was wrong.
Then in your twenties you were kind,
And tried hard to improve my mind,
But still I felt that, in your eyes,
Though I meant well, I wasn't wise.

And now, I see you with your son,
Who's learning fast, at just turned one.
You think, my son, you know the lot -
But such a journey you have got!
You'll find, my son, your knowledge shrinks
As your son tells you what he thinks.
And as his years go swiftly past,
Each one more complex than the last,
You'll find that you can only try
To answer when he asks you: "Why?"
I pray, my son, your son will be
As kind as you have been to me ...
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