Anther true family story, my family of good Lancashire-Irish stock. Their stories in my way told.


GREAT UNCLE DAVID WILLIAMS!

My great uncle David Williams
A hard man, a tough man
In his time, he had to be
In his years, no time to be
A softy!
He were a fighter, a street fighter
Has were his - three brothers you did not mess with them!
Any who did - lived to have regrets!
They falt with fists, with Lancashire clogs, made from hard unyielding leather
Wooden soles, with iron on the soles, and heels, and they know how to use 'em!
You get the pitcher, I'm sure!

All four took part in Word War One
All four, returned! If not them all untouched by The WAR!
Great uncle David, came back from
Canada
To join up to fight in The War!
That's anther story for anther story-poem
For another time!

Now great uncle David had a young lass
He'd had hoped, even had plans to marry
Locally all know of this, they were walking out togeather
A courting couple!

Then one day, his lass, told great uncle David, she could not see him that evening
Has she had a sowing class to attend too, that evening, great uncle David, took her at her word
That left, great uncle David, at a loose end, that evening he took a stroll
visiting local pubs, at his leisure

Then he walked into a pub, not a pub, he'd been in many times before that very evening
Has he walked in he could not fail to see, his lass siting with a lad, who were not her kin!
All those in the pub, know great uncle David, know well his reputation, very well!
The pub went quiet, very quiet indeed, the lad sat with great uncles las, well
They could hear him cracking himself, in his pants, the tick tock of fob watches, both went white as ghosts!
The whole pub, reckoned, great uncle David, would kill them both, at least give the interloper, a right thrashing! with an inch of his miserable life expectancy!

Great uncle David, walk strait to pub bar, ordered a gallon of the best beer!
Paid for it, took it, turned around, walked to the couple, put the gallon of beer
On their table, took the lads, hand, shook his hand, and said: '' thanks lad for showing, now looking at his now his former las, showing what kind of lass she is!''
With that he walked on out, the pub, still as quiet as the grave
Great uncle David, never got wed, he were not going to risk, being betrayed ever again!

Ken d williams
The Dyslexic Wordsmith






Poetry by ken d williams The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 41 times
Written on 2017-04-02 at 20:48

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antoniya katelieva-wood The PoetBay support member heart!
You welcome Ken
2017-04-03


antoniya katelieva-wood The PoetBay support member heart!
Lovely story poem,I stop breath when i read it
2017-04-03


Kathy Lockhart
I do enjoy your story poems Ken. Your Great Uncle David was a wise man; wasn't he? I am so glad he used his brain instead of his brawn! He probably saved many lives that night, including his own.
2017-04-03


Helen Paquin
Interesting story. And a great man for the way
he handled the situation. Nice read, Ken
2017-04-02