Grandpop
I am sitting here, writing this,thinking about
my grandpop,who died in 1973
Most of the time he was a cranky old bastard
who wouldn’t give you the time of day
But at other times he would tell me stories
He told me that when he was young there
no cars,that people got around in horse&cart
He said that when he worked in the mines,
he used to carry around a canary
If the canary died you couldn’t go underground
He also told me a bit about when he went to war
he would tell me a bit and then go quiet,you could
tell by his face that he was haunted
I think that the war got into his head,he would
sometimes drink,and go a little wild
He liked his whiskey and roll yer owns
and the wore a funny hat
He never smiled,most of the time he was withdrawn
and sullen
But get him on a good day,you couldn’t meet a
better person
I still think about grandpop,every now and then
So here I am now writing with paper and pen
Goodbye Grandpop
