Jack...Part 1
In January of nineteen thirteen
a little boy was born;
bright, strong, honest and good
and in his father's side...a thorn.
His father was a rotten drunk
with no concept of 'clean',
lacking humanity in every respect,
nasty...no, downright mean!
When sent to milk a cow, aged five
He had not been shown all the tricks.
The cows knew he was nervous,
stomped his feet and gave wicked tail flicks.
His reward was a terrible beating,
the yield from each cow insufficient.
He was not deterred and gave his best,
quickly becoming proficient.
This dirty man was a butcher
but few would buy his meat.
Jack had to do all the 'hard yards'
and was often asleep on his feet.
The business sold and the money was used
to buy a T Model car.
He insisted Jack accompany him
and they travelled to places far.
Right across Australia,
the boy and his father went.
Jack had to both drive and maintain the car
and thus his childhood was spent.
It turned out to be a 'pub crawl'
with a binge at every stop.
I know this as Jack was my father
and the dirty old man was my Pop.
Graphic: blogspot.com
By cherryk
© 2009 cherryk
(All rights reserved)
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