Cry he doesn't, in pain
His eyes may smile, not his teeth in vain
At the hands of the doctor his eyes may show fear
In front of me he doesn't show it, my dear
With a cold, he shivers, clutches his shoulders
Smile nonetheless, he does
In the heat he walks, without an umbrella nor a cap
Makes sure I, sport an umbrella and a cap
At the hands of a doctor he's a child
Discipline he does, me, always like a child
In front of others he's calm and quiet
Yet they fear his tongues might
Uncut and unpolished like a diamond in the rough
Such shine, even for such a rough diamond
- Sachin
- Sachin
