“The Gun Collector”
To Dad
He sits among them day by day
They hang from every wall,
Flintlocks, hammerlocks, dueling pistols
Thick ones, slim ones, short and tall
They hang above his desk
His window, chair, and doors
You wonder how he could possibly think
Of putting in any more---
They stand in cases, racks, and stalls
In every corner and nook
And when he can’t find room for one
He’ll hang it from a hook---
You look at all this wood and steel,
And you somehow get the feeling
That the next time you visit his hide away
He’ll be hanging them from the ceiling---
He knows the history of every one,
And is known though out his sector
As being an authority in his field,
As a “top notch” gun
collector---!
William C. Dean
December 25, 1944
To Dad
He sits among them day by day
They hang from every wall,
Flintlocks, hammerlocks, dueling pistols
Thick ones, slim ones, short and tall
They hang above his desk
His window, chair, and doors
You wonder how he could possibly think
Of putting in any more---
They stand in cases, racks, and stalls
In every corner and nook
And when he can’t find room for one
He’ll hang it from a hook---
You look at all this wood and steel,
And you somehow get the feeling
That the next time you visit his hide away
He’ll be hanging them from the ceiling---
He knows the history of every one,
And is known though out his sector
As being an authority in his field,
As a “top notch” gun
collector---!
William C. Dean
December 25, 1944
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