“I was in Baghdad when you were in your dad’s bag.”
Proffered forefather, mischievous of trait, maternal of line
Playfully admonishing grandson for misguided patronisation
“In Armley Jail, you get no ale”
A ditty to same boy, courtesy of paternal rooted gramps
Tongue in cheek indoctrination of folly of crime
Ancestors DNA disparate, humour homogenous.
WWII paters, with weapons of wit
Advice in 70s from men in their 70’s
Erudite advisors with larking demeanour
Unconditionally they enlighten the conditional
Lighting rooms with banter, Lighting tobacco with habit
Their ardours ITV Seven dovetailing Leeds United eleven
Both sought merriment in peers and piers.
Grandson covets forefathers of kindred spirit
Their tongue in cheek, his cheek in tongue
Melancholy manifests, impetus deprived confab of adulthood
Yeti desires meeting once again
It’s over thirty years since grandson met forefathers
Yet still they live through his banter inane
Legacy to the boy and generations forthwith.
