Saturday 9 August 2014

August 9: Me and my Grandad ...



Just what was he thinking, as he looked at me laugh
“This boy is a genius”, or, “Don’t know wheat from chaff”
Me, I don’t really care, but the thing I know best
Is that my Grandad he loved me, until the day he did rest

They told me my Grandad as a fisherman was alright
And he could weigh fishes by the strength of their fight
I don’t remember if we went fishing, my Grandad and I
But I know if he did, it would have been me who’d have cried

“Hey did you see that one, it was as big as a house”
Grandad he'd laugh, “What, a house for a mouse”
And I heard him tell Grandma, as we got home in the dark
“Hey Dot what’s for dinner, fishing just ain’t Paul’s lark”

My memory is faded, of the Dad of my Mum
He visited us twice, when to Australia they’d come
I still miss his presence, him so large, me so small
As another day it goes by in this life of mine, Paul


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