This story was told to me by different members
Of my family. I cannot confirm or deny what they say,
But it makes a good story anyway.
Heard he was the only one who cried.
There was eight in the family maybe nine,
I wasn't even born at that time.
Within his family there were many jack the lad,
Some were good some not too bad.
Great granddad was thought to be rich,
The thought of his money gave them an itch.
They tore up the floor boards none to be found,
On the rest of house there was no money around.
Took out the windows putty house looked a sight,
Great granddad still laying in-state it wasn't right.
Went through his things looking for penny black's,
In the concophony of confusion burning some outback.
Up in flames went many a sheet of penny reds,
Consumed in flames weren't worth a thing they said.
They set up a table of his personal items of this I am sure,
With all of his greedy children clambering for more.
Waiting eagerly at the other end of the floor,
Someone shouted ready steady go as my father disgusted,
Walked out through the door.
Poetry by Alan J Ripley
Read 114 times
Written on 2022-12-25 at 05:48
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
Of my family. I cannot confirm or deny what they say,
But it makes a good story anyway.
FAMILY LIFE
When my dad's dad died,Heard he was the only one who cried.
There was eight in the family maybe nine,
I wasn't even born at that time.
Within his family there were many jack the lad,
Some were good some not too bad.
Great granddad was thought to be rich,
The thought of his money gave them an itch.
They tore up the floor boards none to be found,
On the rest of house there was no money around.
Took out the windows putty house looked a sight,
Great granddad still laying in-state it wasn't right.
Went through his things looking for penny black's,
In the concophony of confusion burning some outback.
Up in flames went many a sheet of penny reds,
Consumed in flames weren't worth a thing they said.
They set up a table of his personal items of this I am sure,
With all of his greedy children clambering for more.
Waiting eagerly at the other end of the floor,
Someone shouted ready steady go as my father disgusted,
Walked out through the door.
Poetry by Alan J Ripley
Read 114 times
Written on 2022-12-25 at 05:48
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
