The Past Master

Who’s the stranger, Mother, dear?
Look, he knows us – ain’t that queer?

Hush, my son, don’t talk so wild –
He’s your father, dearest child.

He’s my father? It’s not so!
Father died six years ago.

Dad didn’t die, Oh love of mine,
He’s been going through the line.
But he’s been Master now so he
Has no place to go you see –
No place left for him to roam.
That is why he is coming home.
Kiss him, he won’t bite you child.
All Past Masters are quite mild.

Author Unkown