父亲节英语演讲稿

父亲节英语演讲稿1

　　Many years ago, a baby boy came into this world. But unfortunately, he didn't come with a cry, which was a big problem from the medical point of view. The doctor, tough and quick, turned the baby upside down and slapped his bottom sharply. The baby cried, and he survived. At that moment, the father yelled at the doctor, Why did you hit my baby? He did not realize that the doctor had saved the baby's life. The baby cried and cried, and the father smiled and silently cried as well. He held the baby in his arms and did not allow the doctor to touch the baby anymore.Contest chair, ladies and gentlemen, that baby was me, and that man was my dad. Whenever my mom told people this story, I would always laugh aloud, and my dad would just shake his head and smile quietly.

父亲节英语演讲稿2

　　Today day is a memorable day, are the annual Father's Day!

　　Deep sea motherly love, fatherly love heavy as a mountain. People at the same time to celebrate Mother's Day and did not forget his father's achievements. Someone start the year on the recommendation of Father's Day. Years, it is to celebrate the first Father's Day. At that time, the late father of all people have to wear a white rose, the father of the people alive while wearing red roses. This custom has been passed so far.

　　It is said that the selection of Father's Day is a month over month because of the sun are the most heated one, a symbol of the father to give their children the love that hot. Paternal such as mountains, tall and lofty, let me look timid and afraid to climb Health; father such as days,and far-reaching, so that Yang and my heart did not dare pity; paternal great deep are pure and not return , but love is a bitter, difficult to understand depression and the unattainable.

　　Father, like a tree, always, let him lush foliage of a solid arm for the tree to create shadeus. Years such as the fingers over the water, like, before I knew it, we have grown up, while the tree is gradually aging, and even the new leaves are no longer the hair full of vitality. Annually on the third Sunday is father's holiday, let us sincerely say: Father, I love you! Happy Father's Day!

　　Now, the Certificate of Education Examination and the final exams approaching, I suggest that we should seize the time, study hard, with excellent results as to the father's gift, great father to return, I believe his father at that time are the most beautiful smile! Students, come on now!

父亲节英语演讲稿3

　　Who is using the arm of Qiu Jin, for us to put up a brilliant sky?

　　Who is using the hard-working hands, happy for us to build a home?

　　Are you, father, a great name but Ordinary!

　　Father of a mountain, broad-minded, the father of rivers to accommodate an umbrella for us so that we stay away from disaster

　　Father of a vessel, carrying us, brave the wind and waves, love towards the Harbor!

　　In the eyes of his daughter, the father is more like you are leaning against a tree in spring can love you like fantasy Ganlu drop, moisten with my heart;

　　Through the summer to enjoy your love, like bursts of breeze, the wind blowing softly beside him;

　　Taught me to become ripe autumn, your love is to me is that the rich fruits of success

　　Taught me to become a strong winter, you love the sun are continuously given me confidence and strength!

　　Spring, summer, autumn and winter, the sun traces of rotation time, quietly climbed up the wind and rain on your face honed, so that you vicissitudes

　　Not forget, you earnestly to teach the scene

　　Not forget, you sent her daughter to ride back to school is not to be forgotten, when the daughter of Late in your sad eyes

　　Is not to be forgotten, when the sick daughter on your face can not forget the scenes of fear, the father and daughter is not to be forgotten ... ... If the situation can be life-cycle the next life, I also make your daughter!

父亲节英语演讲稿4

　　His hands were rough and exceedingly1) strong. He could gently prune2) a fruit tree orfirmly ease a stubborn horse into a harness. What I remember most is the special warmthfrom those hands as he would take me by the shoulder and point out the glittering swoop of ablue hawk, or a rabbit asleep in its lair. They were good hands that served him well and failedhim in only one thing. They never learned to write.父亲节英语演讲稿：My Father’s Hands

　　My father was illiterate. The number of illiterates3) in our country has steadily declined, butif there were only one I would be saddened4), remembering my father and the pain heendured because his hands never learned to write. He started school in the first grade, wherethe remedy for a wrong answer was ten rule r strokes across a stretched palm.

　　For some reason, shapes, figures and letters just did not fall into the rig ht pattern inside hissix-year-old mind. His father took him out of school after several months and set him to a man’sjob on the farm.

　　Years later, his wife, with her fourth-grade education, would try to teach him to read. And stilllater I would grasp his big fist between my small hands and awkwardly help him to trace theletters of his name. He submitted5) to the ordeal for a short time, but soon grew restless andwould declare that he had had enough.

父亲节英语演讲稿5

　　His hands were rough and exceedingly1) strong. He could gently prune2) a fruit tree orfirmly ease a stubborn horse into a harness. What I remember most is the special warmthfrom those hands as he would take me by the shoulder and point out the glittering swoop of ablue hawk, or a rabbit asleep in its lair. They were good hands that served him well and failedhim in only one thing. They never learned to write.

　　My father was illiterate. The number of illiterates3) in our country has steadily declined, butif there were only one I would be saddened4), remembering my father and the pain heendured because his hands never learned to write. He started school in the first grade, wherethe remedy for a wrong answer was ten rule r strokes across a stretched palm.

　　For some reason, shapes, figures and letters just did not fall into the rig ht pattern inside hissix-year-old mind. His father took him out of school after several months and set him to a man’sjob on the farm.

　　Years later, his wife, with her fourth-grade education, would try to teach him to read. And stilllater I would grasp his big fist between my small hands and awkwardly help him to trace theletters of his name. He submitted5) to the ordeal for a short time, but soon grew restless andwould declare that he had had enough.

　　One night, when he thought no one saw, he slipped away with my second grade reader andlabored over the words until they became too difficult. He pressed his forehead into the pagesand wept. Thereafter, no amount of persuading could bring him to sit with pen and paper. Hedid still like to listen to my mother, and then to me, read to him. He especially enjoyedlistening to us read to him from the Bible.

　　My father was forced to let the bank take possession of most of the acreage6) of his farmlandone year when a crop failure meant he couldn’t make the mortgage7) payment. He was ableto keep one acre of the farmland where the small farm house was located.

　　From the farm to road building and later to factory work, his hands served him well. His mindwas keen, and his will to work was unsurpassed. His enthusiasm and efficiency brought anoffer to become a line boss--until he was handed the qualification test.

　　Years later, when Mother died, I tried to get him to come and live with my family, but heinsisted on staying in the small house with the garden plot and a few farm animals close by.His health began to fail, and he was in and out of the hospital with two mild heart attacks. OldDoc Green saw him weekly and gave him medication, including nitroglycerin8) tablets to putunder h is tongue should he feel an attack coming on.

　　My last fond memory of Dad was watching as he walked across the brow of a hillside meadowwith those big warm hands resting on the shoulders of my two children. He stopped to point outa pond where he and I had fished years before. The night, my family an d I flew back to ourown home. Three weeks later Dad was dead because of a heart attack.

　　I returned to my father’s home for the funeral. Doc Green told me how sorry he was. In fact, hewas bothered a bit, because he had just written Dad a new prescription, and the druggist9)had filled it. Yet the bottle of pills had not been found on Dad’s person. Doc Green felt that apill might have kept him alive long enough to summon help.

　　I went out to Dad’s garden plot where a neighbor had found him. In grief, I stooped to t racemy fingers in the earth where he had reached the end of his life. My hand came to rest on ahalf-buried brick, which I aimlessly lifted. I noticed underneath it the twisted and battered, yetunbroken, container that had been beaten into the soft earth.

　　As I held the container of pills, the scene of Dad struggling to remove the cap and indesperation trying to break it with the brick flashed painfully before my eyes. With deepanguish I knew why those big hands had lost in their struggle with death. For there, imprintedon the cap, were the words：“Child-proof cap--Push down and twist to unlock. ”

　　The druggist later confirmed that he had just started using the new safety caps.

　　I knew it was not a rational act, but I went right downtown and bought a leather-boundpocket dictionary and a gold pen set. I bade Dad good-bye by placing them in those big hands,once so warm, which had lived so well, but had never learned to write.

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