Post by Deleted on Jul 17, 2017 21:16:11 GMT -5
The only poem any of my grandparents taught me. From my paternal grandpa.
My pup, my pup, my beautiful pup.
Drinking out of the old tin cup.
Running and jumping after the pony.
My pup, my pup, will soon be baloney.
Makes me smile. Grandpa was a tough old well driller and farmer. Smoked roll-your-own Prince Albert cigarettes all day. After his funeral, we walked around his farm and I was amazed by the pile of PA tins out in the end of one pasture. There must have been several thousand in that one heap. I wish I could have had more time with him. I have a lot of things I would like to ask him. He has been gone now 35 years and I miss him.
My pup, my pup, my beautiful pup.
Drinking out of the old tin cup.
Running and jumping after the pony.
My pup, my pup, will soon be baloney.
Makes me smile. Grandpa was a tough old well driller and farmer. Smoked roll-your-own Prince Albert cigarettes all day. After his funeral, we walked around his farm and I was amazed by the pile of PA tins out in the end of one pasture. There must have been several thousand in that one heap. I wish I could have had more time with him. I have a lot of things I would like to ask him. He has been gone now 35 years and I miss him.
