Cyrus Neff 1842-1914

Cyrus Neff 1842-1914 You will never find me and the missus, Not back here amongst the roots and the scrubs! We are among the forgotten dead of Mt. Olive Cemetery! Our graves have disappeared, completely Eaten away by time and rain and wind. I bought these cheap graves in a potters field, my friends. Mt. Olive is nothing more than a cheap graveyard, Just a donated acre of Quaker farm land, Given over to the community to bury the poor, And the early dead; those poor pioneering souls, Succumbing slowly to the poisons of diphtheria in 1887. But we survivors are snoring away still, out here, Behind this dense crowd of whispering walnut trees, Which bend a little in the September wind, And dutifully guard the grave of Greek George, over there. Truth be known, me and the missus loved it here in Whittier. We had a nice house on dusty Penn Street, Over by the spreading Hybrid tree, And enjoyed a brace of decades under the California sun, Living, working, and then dying. My friends, you are all invited to our graves, The missus and me, well, you won’t find us here. For we are now one with the roots and the scrubs! But you are invited to come by, sit a spell, And listen with us, the missus and me, To the whispering voices of the walnut trees.