The Aged Youthful Gentleman
The Aged Youthful Gentleman
He rested in a wooden chair-his good times almost had,
The aged youthful gentleman-the father of my dad.
He uttered rarely a word if it weren't amusing or wise,
The aged youthful gentleman dealt not with waste nor lies.
And he was my shelter, security and pride,
He lives on still within me tho' some do swear he died.
He was abundantly gifted with story and catchy rhyme,
The aged youthful gentle man who carried not a dime.
His only luxury in life was kept in an old tin chest,
A shot of 'fer me heart' brandy each eve before his rest,
The remainder of his income helped fill plenty of need,
For a son who'd a sickly wife and 8 wee mouths to feed.
I suspect he's traded that old wooden chair for a jewelled throne,
The aged youthful gentleman who made his house our home.
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