Hard men,yard men,tarred in the barrel of life men
Dad
was one of them men.
Worked hard
spoke little
drank a few with those he knew.
We knew him as a good man, a fair man,
a story sharing caring man,
never tough with us,never cussed,
never swore,
wore a kipper tie on Sundays.

Gran,
an old Victorian,
Dads Mam.
He looked a lot like her.
She ain't with us anymore,
wore away,
worked every day.
A good lass,passed her goodness on to dad
a good lad.

Memories are not always bad.