by William Armstrong
I sent my son Diego to the University of Spain
So he would learn how to become a man.
But the son who returned when I called him back home
Had changed in ways I couldn't understand.
He came back more interested in books than in swords
And often sleeps late into the day.
When trouble and injustoce rear theor ugly heads,
He always finds a way out of the fray.
He spends most of his time with Bernardo, his servant,
And in the tavern buying everyone a drink.
I wanted him to challenge the authority of Monastario;
Sometimes I don't know what to think.
I wish he was more like the bandit the call "the Fox"
Instead of a guitar-playing dandy with a song.
He leaves all of the danger and the sword fighting
to Zorro.
Where, oh where, did I go wrong?
I would dream of him and Zorro fighting side-by-side,
But that is more than one can hope for.
From time to time I thought I saw a change in him,
But then he would let me down once more.
And just when it looked as if all my hopes were dashed,
One day the truth dawned on me, and now I know
That the son I thought all along was lazy and worthless
Is the champion of the people - El Zorro!
Table of Contents
Poetry Table of Contents
