I can not speak for everyone
Let's call this my opinion
Back in the day, my old fashioned dad
Ruled over his dominion
He set forth rules, an imaginary line,
And we, as subordinates, embraced
Frequently, boys being boys,
We'd stray then beg for grace
A leather belt, a boat paddle
Whatever was within his reach
Discipline is the word he used
Whenever that line was breached
We learned, too well, to embrace that line
Or face serious consequences
It seems, these days, there is no line
Apparently there's not even trenches.
an original poem by Daniel Turner
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