Dear Old Charles Revised Poem by Robert Roberts

Hurts to see you old, stubby and grey oh my dear friend, what more do we say

we have lived our lives waiting for this day
but now it's here we can't sing or play
by old miller creek we used to sit and gaze
our life was good, my god it was great
we lived all these years but this is our last day
so come to join hands, let us sit and pray

we have had our times, we have seen the signs
like the thorn-bearing trees, the prickly old pines
a race to the top just to see who would drop
changing by the minute like the seasonal crops.
in the mall or shop, for a bottle of pop
like a steaming pot we would argue a lot

oh farewell my friend, for this is the end
all our tales I must commend
I have this to say so a letter I send
may all our issue with your passing be amend
and now that you're gone and can no longer contend
it seems I am victorious, my fair weathered friend
we have grown to love
we have loved and grown
you're a brother till death and till am no more