The Way He Used To Do

Sometimes when I come in at night And take my shoes off at the stair, I hear my Pop turn on the light And holler: “William, are you there?” And then he says: “You go to bed-- I knew that stealthy step was you.” And I asked how and then he said: “’Cause that’s the way I used to do.”

Sometimes when I come home at six O’clock and hurry up my chores, And get a big armful of sticks Of wood and bring it all indoors, My Pop he comes and feels my head And says: “You’ve been in swimmin’--you!” When I asked how he knew, he said: “’Cause that’s the way I used to do.”

Sometimes before a circus comes, When I’m as willing as can be To do my chores, and all my chums They all take turns at helping me, My Pop, he pats ’em on the head And says: “You like a circus, too?” When I asked how he knew, he said: “’Cause that’s the way I used to do.” And lots of times when he gets mad Enough to whip me and declares He never saw another lad Like I am--well, at last he spares Me from a whipping and he lays His rawhide down: “I can’t whip you For that, although I should,” he says, “’Cause that’s the way I used to do.”