Aunty Fanny’s Funeral
Auntie Fanny’s funeral—what a to-do!
Thirty stone for all to see.
“Did she have a mustache?”
Little Billy asked,
Dad’s cap came off,
A smack on the head.
The cortege rolls,
A tire goes pop,
Traffic stops in Liverpool.
The coffin slides—
Ba-bang! into the mud.
The bystanders gasp,
At least the box is sturdy.
Pretend tears shed,
Next, the will reading.
“To whom it may concern,”
Fred declared,
“Tom, my piss pot.
Nephews, a gallstone jar.
Harry, my car's debt is yours.”
An hour later,
Everyone is miffed,
“A tight old bugger,” they say.
To the pub for ham butties,
“To Fanny!” they toast,
A tight bugger but we care.
About the Creator
♿ V+ Marie381Uk
Poetry has lived in me since childhood.
Ink spills the feelings words fear to say.
My poems heal, some haunt, all are pieces of me.
Stay and read please. Like&follow me. If my poetry touches your ♥️ maybe leave a small tip
#Marie381UkWrites
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also become a paid subscriber, letting them know you appreciate their work.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.