| |
| (When our church was taking |
| pictures for the church
directory.) |
| |
| "I'd like to shoot your baby, Ma'am". |
| Said the picture man at my door |
| And I was quite delighted because |
| Our baby had never been "shot" before. |
| |
| I dressed her in the finest clothes |
| I shined her shoes and brushed her hair |
| Then tenderly I propped her up |
| In Daddy's platform rocking chair. |
| |
| The picture man went into action |
| I tried to help him make her smile |
| The look he gave me seemed to say, |
| "Why don't you just get lost for awhile?" |
| |
| I know he thought I fussed too much |
| And just kept getting in his way |
| I must admit he looked quite beat |
| When he left my house that day. |
| |
| Today the picture man came back |
| To show the pictures he had taken |
| The memory of what I saw |
| Still leaves me slightly shaken. |
| |
| "I'm sure my baby's not that bald - |
| What did you do with all her hair? |
| Where did you get that extra chin? |
| I know there was a dimple there." |
| |
| The picture man just smiled and said, |
| "My camera cannot tell a lie - |
| To photograph what isn't there |
| I could not - would not - even try. |
| |
| I think these pictures are quite good |
| Bald-headed babies are in style |
| The dimpled chin is hidden |
| By the great big toothless smile." |
| |
| Well, I bought some of the pictures |
| For my relatives and friends |
| Now I'd like to ask a question |
| Before this picture story ends. |
| |
| Why did that picture man look back |
| And mumble as he shook his head, |
| "Sometimes I get the awful urge |
| To shoot the mother instead." |
