for dad

 

A big man,
At any measure
Who liked many a simple pleasure
A pipe, a pint, a newspaper to hand
Up at the local
Down home,
Working soil and land
What ever you did
Where ever you’d fall
The circles in which your life moved
Were small

 The original Jim Royle
That was you
Worked hard for a wage
And liked a brew
Sat in your armchair
Watching the match
We’d inevitably hear you shout and sing
“Come On, Hit the thing”
As the boys in claret & blue changed
You passion for the beautiful game never waned 

What you built
Was always to last
And will survive in our memories
Long after future becomes past
A marriage, a home
Friends and family
All part of your living legacy
Even the shed (come bunker)
Will be standing long after we do
At the house at number 72 

Reluctant to embrace the new
You resisted change
And stuck with what you knew
Though sometimes with more than a little persuasion
You’d surprise us all and rise to the occasion
I remember when you got your first car
And took the family for a leisurely drive
We thought we’d never get out alive
We shuddered, juddered, shook and shaked
Up Cranbourne Rd while folks looked on in haste
Soon after your test was passed
And the days of busses were a thing of the past

 

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