Crutching Poems

Grandpa Les

Uncle Les

My step grandfather was uncle Les,
Gun shearer of wooly sheep, he was,
Travelled the country, yes I says,
 and at crutching, He was beaut,    

false teeth of gold his mouth did hold,
just me funeral expenses,
He never seemed to get too old,
The gold the shiny dentures?

He hated scabs who under cut,
The wage of other shearers, 
He tried to run one down in Bourke
Wife Tuppy almost had a seizure.

Les wanted his ashes scattered,
 over the river Barwon,
daughter Pat flew there, did just that,
at Mungindi, the darling.

31-july-11 GOT SECOND PLACE IN THE COMPETITION
Memories of Grandma or Grandpa or Both 
Sponsored by: Carol Brown