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Poem	Drunk or sober Uncle Jim Played the boy; Never glum or sour or grim, Oozin' joy. Most folks thought he was no good, Blamin' him; But where kiddies were, you could Bank on Jim. Sure he allus hated work, Lovin' play. "Jest a good fer nuthin' jerk," Lots would say. Yet how the children fell for him, Whooped with glee: Guys so popular as Jim Seldom be. How old songs, sweet as a bell, He would sing! What grand stories he would tell, Gesturin'! Elders reckoned him a sot, Sighin' sad; But with tiny toddlers what Sport he had! Might have had a brood, they said, Of his own; Lost his wife in childbirth bed, Left him lone . . . Well, now he is cold an' still, Here's to him: Kids an' mothers always will Bless old Jim.
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