Granddad were a grand chap
He wore a trilby
And a gabardine mac.
He worked int’ mill
And smoked a pipe
Rode to work and back
On his push bike.
Saturday night he’d get spruced up
And go down to his local
A few jars of ale consumed
He became very vocal.
Knees up mother brown
Roll out the barrel
I’ll take you home Kathleen
Or even a Christmas carol.
The landlord shouted time
The last song was sung
O Harold one more rhyme
Last orders! The bell’s been rung.
A night full of ale and prose
He couldn’t stand on his feet
Then, up he sprung to his toes
And muttered I’ll give them a treat.
“Last night I ate some cheese
Which this morning made me sneeze
The cat had a fit in the cellar
The dog had the same disease
The chairs began to walk
And the table did the same
And my grandmothers beautiful picture
Walked out of its beautiful frame.”
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Comments about this poem (Granddad by Hazel Connelly )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(August 19, 1902 – May 19, 1971)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
William Carlos Williams
(17 September 1883 – 4 March 1963)
(13 September 1916 – 23 November 1990)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
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