Uncle John

Uncle John

A Poem by David Lewis Paget

My Uncle John was a woebegone
In the all out way of things,
Wherever he went, no sun had shone
And we all were ding-a-lings.

He had no time for the hoi poloi
Or women who rant and tweet,
He’d pick on their saddest attributes
When he said they had ugly feet.

But those that he hated most were men
With money, and stick-out ears,
He said they could overhear him when
He whispered to privateers.

When I was a boy, I looked for joy
But he only gave me grief,
He’d say a bloke with a silly joke
Was simply a petty thief.

He’d never praise original thought
He’d say that it sounded dumb,
His wife Elaine said he’d still complain
As long as he sat on his bum.

She once cooked him a glorious meal
He muttered, and spat it out,
So Aunt Elaine said, ‘it’s such a shame,
I thought it might give him gout.’

I have to tell it was just as well,
He came to a terrible end,
He fell right back with a heart attack
When somebody called him ‘friend.’

We planted a bed of chrysanthemums
On his plot in the cemetery,
It gives him something to b***h about
When the cats go there to pee.

David Lewis Paget

© 2017 David Lewis Paget


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Reviews

Laughing out loud at the ending. Some people like to be negative and you capture that perfectly in this poem.

Posted 5 Years Ago


Loved the ending,

Great story David

Posted 5 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

A perfect ending to the wonderful poem. You made Uncle John come alive and I could feel his attitude. Some people are just born pissed-off. Thank you David for sharing the amazing poetry.
Coyote

Posted 6 Years Ago



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217 Views
3 Reviews
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Added on November 24, 2017
Last Updated on November 24, 2017
Tags: woebegone, privateers, grief, cemetery

Author

David Lewis Paget
David Lewis Paget

Moonta, South Australia, Australia



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