The Year That Grandma Died Poem by Iohannes Silvaticus

The year that grandma died,
She was lively and kicking
Like a bird that wanted to fly
And see the world.
Whether to marvel the splendours
Or merely deplete her pension
I do not know.

And while her back was turned
They were all prepared
With knife in hand to slice
Their share of her pigeon hole.
They all forgot grandma
Had left her hearing aid at home.

But this was for sure:
She left not a penny for those brats
But a bag of her old bones.
The year that grandma died,
I won’t say that she died
But rather, she went home.