Brother and Father, true
Of 90 years, they have no clue
Grandchildren rush to wishes, send
None yet, from the great-grandson at Trent's end
Born in the depression pit
Promised relief if at desk, you sit
Watched a subcontinental tear
To join a state of emergency, rare
From steamship to service royal
You proved yourself truly loyal
The crown's agents embraced you, sure
For their empire's profit, pure
You, in stature, grow
Wife and kids in tow
Gave them your all
Theirs to rise and fall
A new crown stalks the land
They miss the card in your hand
Joke's on them, right
Let them learn a nonagenarian's might
From the prodigal, a wish in rhyme
This sixty-second time
No mere words, off a duck's back
True feelings of love, don't lack
This 90th birthday poem is for my Aunt Jean Bates – she was in fits of laughter when I recited it on the phone for her today. My Aunt and her brother (who is 99) both used to write poetry and many naughty limericks so I guess it is in my genes
A schoolboy whose surname is Bates
Got terribly teased by his mates
He is MISTER not Master –
(That would be a disaster)
His surname he now really hates!
True Story …
When I was on the phone my aunt told me of a coach trip she took with her husband and son – the tour leader was reading out the names of the passengers … Mr and Mrs Smith and Master Smith, Mr and Mrs Jones and Master Jones …. My aunt was mortified when they got to their surname and it was Mr and Mrs Bates and Master Bates – why couldn’t they call him Mister!
08-06-17
My mom turn ninety
what a blessed moment
God is still in charge
they came from near and far
in rainbow shades with love.
*
Birthday banners and balloons adorn the wall
Family and friends will be gathering in the hall
How we will enjoy the time we are together
Your face will be smiling whatever the weather
It’s not every day you reach the age of ninety
We will raise a glass of champagne to you
Eat delicious food and be happy
It’s a time for celebration and to say
HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAD
Jan Allison
2nd August 2014
Dear Aunt Louise
Happiest of times are made so
By people around us and
Those connected by
The crossing of paths.
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