He’s not my boy, but when his hand
Is held in mine, I understand
The problems that he has to face
I glimpse his goal in life’s long race
And then a thrill akin to joy
Sweeps over me—he is my boy
Is held in mine, I understand
The problems that he has to face
I glimpse his goal in life’s long race
And then a thrill akin to joy
Sweeps over me—he is my boy
