A rich tea biscuit in her pocket of crumbs for later
Is where she placed her hand.
A pocket containing her *****.
For her yellow queer nose, enough is enough
Old people have strange habits.
They save things for later.
"Oh thank you dear, I will save it for later!"
And as much as you try to explain
They then complain they cant hear you.
Selective hearing, that is what it is.
She can hear the bingo numbers being called
a mile off.
She can hear if I whisper "do you want a sherry"
With her bloomers, false this, false that, I love her.
And I would not swap her for the world.
She was my grandma, and I still love her.
She was beautiful, funny and awkward.
But I miss her, and always will.
RIP my grandmother Rest In Peace.