The Old Stock
My memories of my grand folks
Brings a big grin to my face
Sometimes makes me cry
For the simple lives they led
Both had nothing much to offer us
They worked hard for all they had
Proud never asked for any hand outs
But made up with kindness instead
Their showed loyalty to their neighbours
Witnessed hard times through their years
A lost tradition in the world today
Would have them turning in their graves
I used to visit them on weekends
My mum would take me on her bike
Friends called in to see them regularly
Chatting about old times that had gone
Those days a distant memory
Would be nice if they were there
I’ll never forget the old stock
Only for them I would not be here
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem