There is the family photograph br That is your father’s face, br There is your father’s father br Grey-gathering years apace; br The son, bright-eyed in the morning, br The father, lined and drawn, br The son became the father br On the day that you were born. br br We’ve all set out on the highway br Our fathers wished us well, br The sons became the fathers br In the same distinctive spell; br The road of all beginnings br Is all there is to lend, br But many a twist, and many a turn br Has marred us at the end. br br He was my father’s father, br I am my father’s son, br We’ve travelled as far, and farther br Than our father’s years have run; br The twists and turns of fortune br Mean nothing, lost or won, br But the love of a father’s father, br And the love of a father’s son.