Old Gits Lament
He sits by the fireside in the old Traveller's Crest
A pub that he frequents when he needs a drink and a rest
So he can cogitate all the events of his life
The pain and the suffering, trouble and strife
With hearing now faulty, deaf in one ear
Eyes misting over, wetting his beer
Arthritic knees that click into place
Which show up his age like the lines on his face
His sexual conquests a thing long since past alas
A limp looking todger that has since been put out to grass
No longer the bird puller he used to be
Now the only crumpet is the one he gets for his tea
A quiet pint of beer his only true friend
One that will remain with him until the very end
Constipation and Prunes the order of the day
Otherwise he will be in a bad way
Such is life we hear him say
Tomorrow will be a better day
But it never is, never fear
It has not been his whole career
Visits to the Doctors to put cream on his piles
And to the Hospital regularly which means walking for miles
Draws his pension weekly, that's all that's left
Without it he would be broke and bereft
His old black and white tele went out with the Arc
And his insomnia ensures he is up with the lark
Old Mrs Bucannan, at number twenty-tree
Always was inviting him round for a cup of tea
But as he’s got older and more miserable she gives him a wide berth
Which might also be down to his much wider girth
No longer the slim Dandy he used to be
His excitement now limited to a nice cake for tea
Once a great dancer, so light on his feet
Now more like an Elephant, just fat and indiscreet
He smiles at the ladies as he passes them by
But they ignore his good mornings as they just pass him by
The Grandchildren think he’s an old fart
Who sooner or later will be carried away on a cart
And they can share out the money he may have in his piggy bank
Up in the loft by the old water tank
But un-benown to all, he has been a wise old bloke
And turned the tables on them just for a joke
He been visiting a brothel down Princess Street many a day
And with some of the ladies , having his wicked way
Can’t take it with you he thought to himself
So went about spending his ill gotten wealth
Visits the Bookies in Windover Lane
And watches relentlessly his money disapear down the drain
His wife sadly passed away a few years ago
And never felt the need to bring a new wife in tow
Happy with his own company down at the Pub
With a pint of Guinness and a pork pie for grub
Nurse Mary
Mary is a district nurse
She travels round each day
To see her patients, give them the care they need
As she wends her merry way
She has her trusty bicycle
Which is nearly as old as she?
But it lets her peddle for miles and miles
So she is as fit as fit can be
In her basket which fits upon the front
She carries all she may need
And she can be seen by every one
Traveling around at her own speed
There’s Mrs Maguire at Appleton Court
A saintly woman of means
But her health is not what it should be
And when Mary calls her face just gleams
To see someone so caring
Who looks after all her needs?
And to while away the time and make some tea
And bring happiness, she always succeeds
Old Mr Partridge at Apple Road
Who lives alone now his wife has passed away
Who is a miserable old so and so
But who Mary still calls on every day
She cooks and cleans but he still moans
The world need’s putting to right
He complains he needs more money from the state
To pay for his television and his heat and light
Saint Mary listens, but has problems of her own
Which intermingles with her own woes?
Being recently diagnosed with cancer
But she feels that’s the way it goes
So she must grin and bear it
Still thinks of others before herself
Has no one at home to turn to
She is a spinster left on the shelf
Married to her profession
Always putting others first
And as usual in life for caring people
They always come off worst
But Old Molly Catapult
A name to conjure with its true
Said it must have been a shot in the dark
Because her family were a motley crew
But Molly loved her garden
Where flowers bloomed all year
And Mary used to help her weed it
They enjoyed doing it together never fear
But as time went by Mary’s health became worse
She began to get tired more quickly than before
And when twilight time is near at hand
She is glad just to get through her own front door
But this particular morning she never arrived at all
No smile for Mrs Maguire, or any of the others too
Mrs Catapult felt so all alone
She did not know what to do
But she contacted the local policeman
Who called to see if Mary was all right?
And after breaking into her cottage
Found she had passed away that night
All her friends were saddened by the news
Her patients most of all
But they all knew how ill she was
And the reaper would someday call
And now in the memorial garden
Just away up the road from the infant school
They have erected a memorial garden
With a Plaque and ornamental pool
Because Mary was the person
On whom all the village could rely
And would be remembered by all that knew her
And even those who passed it by
The work that someone like Mary does
Is sometimes never really appreciated to the fullest extent
Until the day they are no longer there, then it becomes so evident