My Son John - Tom Paxton

My son, John, was a good boy, and good to me

When we had hard times, well, he stood by me

We were in work and out of work and on the go

If he had complaints, I never heard of one

He would pitch in and help me like a full grown man

My son, John.

John, my son

My son, John, went to college and he made his way

Had to earn every penny, but he paid his way

He worked summers and holidays and through the year

And it was no easy struggle that he won

But he laughed at the ones who thought he had it hard

My son, John.

John, my son

My son, John, got his uniform and went away

With a band playing marches, he was sent away

And he wrote me a letter, when he had the time

He was loosing his buddies one by one

And I prayed, and tried not to read between the lines

My son, John.

John, my son

My son, John, came home yesterday;

he’s here to stay

Not a word, to his father, have I heard him say

He seems glad to be home, but I can’t be sure

When I ask him what he’d seen and done

He went up to his bedroom, and he closed the door

My son, John, John my son

He went up to his bedroom, and he closed the door

My son, John, John my son