He will never win any medals, No ribbons or trophies; He will never be interviewed For the evening news, But this man of pride Walked with an honorable stride, He went about his work Toiling every day long, Nourishing his family As surely as his fields, Giving love to them Like the rain and sun That ripened his crops; He did what he thought was right By his children, by his wife. So when he found himself abandoned, The loneliness echoing in empty rooms, He wept for his loss And struggled with bitterness; He searched his past Wondering what went wrong? How could he have failed When he always tried his best? He grieved over the moments When he'd been less than perfect, But no human can claim A life free of mistakes -- A harsh word spoken, an impatient tone, He regretted it so deeply. But was a seldom weakness Never to be forgiven? Could his broken heart Never be mended? But they were gone now, The children, the wife, Leaving him lonely; Yet deep within his soul He finally found how To live again, to carry on, For someday, certainly, The children will call his name And he will answer them As only a loving father can. He will win no medals, He will win no awards, Because this man Is only an ordinary hero, Unrecognized, unknown, Another face in the crowd.
