The last days of my Dad Joe.

How I treasure those days,

And who was to know,

These were the last days

of mi old dad  Joe,

pipe in hand n’ glad to see,

I’d come just to make him a nice cup of tea,

A simple gesture of which he knew,

Was from my heart from me to you,

No “Dad do you mind if,” or “can borrow that”,

Just  cover his peg  with my kaki hat.

We’d chat all about the years gone bye ,

and reminisce until he’d cry,

he was a right lad’ you know in his younger days,

with the war at an end and his discharge pay,

he’d been to Tabrook with his old mate Seth,

but when asked,  all he’d say was;  

too much death ,

on his face you could tell

 he’d seen God n’ Hell,

and he’d change the subject,

ho’ it was bad

 you could tell.

Well,

We buried him last  week,

It was a quiet little do,

with a couple of mates

he’d hung on too.

I’ll never forget his mate Seth’s face

when they read out a letter he’d wrote for his wake,

“I’d have been here for the last 50 years”

but for the brave soul  who saved me ,

he’s standing right near,

I wont pull you a pint yet Seth;  me old bludger  mate,

I think you’d prefer that I hang back n’wait, ha!

Anyhow ; they’ve Bitter on Tap and rivers of stout ,

So I’ll hang on and wait ,cause “Its your bloody shout”

The crowd had a laugh and we toasted the day,

I saw tears in his eyes as Seth walked away,

Im ever so glad that I shared his last years,

To my sister and brother  his life wasn’t  clear

But to me I  was privileged ,  

There to the end,

And the stories of Joe

 and his old war time friend.