You wake up early everyday to get to shul in time to pray.

The reason for your early rise is hardly any big surprise.

To make it home in time to pack a healthy lunch and also snack.

The kids get out in time for school all thanks to you, you crazy fool.

You drive them there and bring them home, thank God for your Y chromosome.

You pay the bills, you sweep the dirt, you patch up boo-boos when they hurt.

You cook the food and the best part is, you know where everything in the kitchen is.

You get them on their bikes to ride, no training wheels, you’re there beside.

You’re handy, too, you fix it all, no job’s too big for you to haul.

You work so hard into the night, like Batman on his way to fight.

Our superhero and you’re real, our very own frum man of steel.

I’m sure you know who wrote this ode, I live with you in your abode.

I thank God every day for you, our kids are lucky you’re theirs, too.

The reason I don’t write my name, I’m clearly bragging—that’s my aim.

For you are ours and you’re the best. The other dads? There’s no contest.

But maybe other dads will guess that their wife wrote this love address.

It could be true, I’ll never say, but I wish you a Happy Father’s Day.