“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.

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