They should never have stuffed my Grand-dad.
He didn’t deserve it, you see.
He served twenty years in the Navy,
though very near caused world war three.
He married my Gran in a lifeboat.
They bobbed up and down with the joy,
and joked that the first of their children
would probably come out a buoy.
They lived near the coast in a hovel,
complete with a cold lavatory
positioned half way up the garden,
surrounded by icicled pee.
He had quite a name with the ladies,
though not necessarily good.
He wasn’t exactly unfaithful,
but certainly would if he could.
At forty his hair was a memory.
His head was all shiny and red.
My Gran buffed it up every Sunday
With a duster and spray-able pledge.
He lost all his teeth around fifty.
He thought they would last him his life.
They might have done too if he hadn’t
been caught with the fish monger’s wife.
He measured his life by his friendships,
although it just has to be said,
if you counted the people who liked him
he’s probably better off dead.
They should never have stuffed my Grand-dad.
My Gran was upset, it was clear.
She wished he’d been cut into fish bait
and lobbed off the end of the pier.
Moving Poems 
Ha.. this sounds like something to be sung in a pub late at night.. love it.
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You’re right, Bjorn – lyrics for sale…lyrics for sale…:)
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Heehee. YES! What Bjorn said. This has the feel of an old Irish drinking song. 😉
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Thank you, de 🙂
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Ha, a great addition, puts a whole new light on listening to the mocking bird!
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Thanks Kelly. Sometimes I detect my SOH is over and beyond….:)
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Very funny I enjoyed the laugh.
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Thank you, Bekki 🙂
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That was just a joy!
Bravo.
More.
Can you tell that I liked it. I’m still smiling –
stuffed silly by your old ode to grandpa.
Randy
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Haha – tickled pink you enjoyed it…more? This will keep you going…
The ugliest woman that ever was born
was called Margery Pilkington-Brown.
If a monkey was born half as ugly as that
they would certainly have it put down.
Her head was as bald as a billiard ball,
yet the hair on her chin was quite long.
For a girl to be cursed with a whiskery beard
was, in anyone’s thinking, quite wrong
Mrs Pilkington cried, “Nurse, please take it away.
It’s a miniature monster from hell.”
“Put a bag on its head,” said the nurse, with a wave,
“If you need a supply, ring the bell.”
So Mrs P stayed for a month and a day
‘Till they told her, quite firmly, to go.
The nurse sympathised with a rolling of eyes
as she packaged the Lady-Shave Pro.
“Oh, what a disgrace when they look at her face
and they see she’s a hideous brute?”
“We’ll give you a bag with a hole in the top.
You can hide her away in the boot.”
So Mrs P left with a feeling of dread
planning what she could do with the sprog.
She drove to a wood at the edge of the park
and left Margery under a log.
“That’s a terrible thing that you’re doing,” he growled.
Mrs P jumped a mile or two.
The Park-Keeper peered at the face in the bag.
“Can’t you find it a home at the zoo?”
Downhearted, she took little Margery home
to a cupboard, until it was night.
She couldn’t risk anyone catching a glance
of poor Margery’s face in the light.
When Mr P saw his new daughter he scowled,
“God Almighty, my dear, what is that?
Has it crawled from a stone in the corner of hell,
or been dragged from a hole by the cat?”
“It’s our baby, dear heart,” cried a hurt Mrs P,
in a trice, feeling rather endeared.
“She may not be nice, but she’s our flesh and blood
with my feet and your belly and beard.”
“Well, yes, I suppose with her seventeen toes
and a nose that could open a tin,
she is rather unique in a curious way
and we’re blessed that she isn’t a twin.
She’s ours, as you say. We can’t give her away
So she’ll stay as a Pilkington – Brown.
We’ll give her a shave and a hat with a brim
And avoid going into the town.”
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SMiLes.. both of my granddad’s
dead before 55.. yep.. another
grand dad’s dad dead before
55.. i am driving 55..
still arriving alive..
55.. is just a number
now.. but kinda scary
as a number’s
game
past.. now..
i ain’t afraid
of 55.. no more..
in fact.. it is better
than ever before…
hmm.. look forward
to liGht alWays now..
the lesson of three
grandfather’s..
never
behind
dArk oF passing..:)
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