Written by my mother;
Frances Catherine Servas
September 30, 1941
Published; October 2, 1941
For my grandfather George Servas who worked as a detective in New Jersey.

Photograph taken by:
Theresa F. Koch

A regular fellow, a swell sort of friend.
Folks will never forget him not till their days end.
He's a sportsman, a hunter, a "dick", and a dad.
And many the time I've made him so sad!

I regret it I know - but what good does it do.
You can't patch up memories, to make them look new.
He's given me all that I want, and then some.
In return he's had nothing, gosh I'm a bum!

Vacations in countries, at lakes and what not,
ever since I was nothing more than a tot.
Then through high school he sent me, but there to I failed,
but finally, after struggling, out of high school I sailed.

He didn't stop at that, he said, "You need some more!"
"Poor me", I thought sadly, "education’s a bore!
"To that he said, "child, don't be such a fool!
It's either to work or have some more school!"

Of course, I didn't realize what it would mean.
To have more than a hat upon my red bean?
So dad, "Thanks to you, it's really a thrill,
to hand out right doses of powder and pill!"

Written by my mother;
Frances Catherine Servas
September 30, 1941
Published; October 2, 1941
For my grandfather George Servas