Poem

Composed by Crispin, youngest son
Read by Rawley Clay, Grand-son
 
With your gruffness a mask, your eyes spoke your mind 
Did WE know you at all, whom you've just left behind?
 
From running, swimming, shooting, even bowling
Competing drove you hard in every way -
A race, a bag, a crossword, conversation
Were all to prove that you could top the day.
Your winning made a triumph of your genius
And lesser mortals cringed in blushing shame;
Your losing found excuses that amused us -
Since finding others lacking was your game!
 
Our memories are mixed, apart, together,
Like scobbaging your bumptious teenage sons;
Those flashes in our lives that live forever:
With special gems that sparkle: Trigger's runs,
The daily Rush with dogs along our river,
The tiger-fish, the duck, the snipe, the guns;
Your dancing with your heroine Queen Mother;
Victoria Falls; and marvellous setting suns.
 
Our base and anchor wheresoe'er we wandered
You made your home in England, ''home'' to stay.
With postmarks, books and Scouts, no time was squandered
You lived your rigid schedule day by day:
At noon the daily tankard - beer or cider,
The sundown scotch, a glass of wine, good port -
Digestion your excuse - but let's look wider -
It helped preserve you just as much as sport!
 
In certain ways so humbly self-effacing,
So dignified and honest and refined,
In others quite abrupt, at times abrasive,
Yet underneath it all, a razor mind.
Your verbal thrusts the basis of your humour
Delighting in a put-down or retort;
Your wicked quips by others would spread a rumour
But repartee was all you really sought.
 
Your voice in church the envy of your children
Your reading of the lesson still excels
So resonant, commanding, with conviction,
Yet for you the only music lay in bells.
Your love of history, words your inspiration,
Embraced the Greats, and crosswords, and your own -
Too few of yours - those few a revelation-
For muse you had, unique but little known.
 
Integrity and principles and ethics -
Your centre is a model for us all;
Your morals tolerated no cosmetics
Your honesty made others look so small.
With documents and records, dues and money,
Meticulous, and fair and all correct -
You never thought to try out 'something funny'
Since Caesar gets what Caesar should collect.
 
So loyal to your country and religion,
Devotion to them both seemed absolute -
Behind your mask, and rituals and tradition,
You battled doubts and furies, mostly mute.
Yet you got your pound-of-flesh: revenge in pension
From H.M.G. for two score years and five -
And kept them guessing, with some condescension,
Your secret for longevity: "Survive"!
 
But maybe you're as stubborn as the four of us
And just to spite 'them' forced yourself to stay!
The irony is how you did survive thus -
Your 'diet' a nutrient nightmare for today!
You sacrificed small luxuries, like smoking -
Though you never inhaled your pipe or C-to-Cs,
Till four decades of half-coronas later
Your doctor said "They're bad for you, so please..."!
 
You briefly gave up chocolate in the sixties
But salt and sugar came in generous heaps;
Now it isn't dread disease, nor crash, nor whiskies -
But a tooth that's just too sweet that comes and reaps;
Like special treats for your last fading taste-buds
You gorge chocolates for your final hurdle leap -
While 'Happy Birthdays' echo in your eardrums
You quietly sigh ''At last, at last'', and sleep.
 
With love and appreciation for so much more than any words of mine.
 

---Oo---
Composed by Crispin, youngest son, read by Rawley Clay, Grand-son
 
With your gruffness a mask, your eyes spoke your mind -
Did WE know you at all whom you've just left behind?
 
From running, swimming, shooting, even bowling
Competing drove you hard in every way -
A race, a bag, a crossword, conversation
Were all to prove that you could top the day.
Your winning made a triumph of your genius
And lesser mortals cringed in blushing shame;
Your losing found excuses that amused us -
Since finding others lacking was your game!
 
Our memories are mixed, apart, together,
Like scobbaging your bumptious teenage sons;
Those flashes in our lives that live forever:
With special gems that sparkle: Trigger's runs,
The daily Rush with dogs along our river,
The tiger-fish, the duck, the snipe, the guns;
Your dancing with your heroine Queen Mother;
Victoria Falls; and marvellous setting suns.
 
Our base and anchor wheresoe'er we wandered
You made your home in England, ''home'' to stay.
With postmarks, books and Scouts, no time was squandered
You lived your rigid schedule day by day:
At noon the daily tankard - beer or cider,
The sundown scotch, a glass of wine, good port -
Digestion your excuse - but let's look wider -
It helped preserve you just as much as sport!
 
In certain ways so humbly self-effacing,
So dignified and honest and refined,
In others quite abrupt, at times abrasive,
Yet underneath it all, a razor mind.
Your verbal thrusts the basis of your humour
Delighting in a put-down or retort;
Your wicked quips by others would spread a rumour
But repartee was all you really sought.
 
Your voice in church the envy of your children
Your reading of the lesson still excels
So resonant, commanding, with conviction,
Yet for you the only music lay in bells.
Your love of history, words your inspiration,
Embraced the Greats, and crosswords, and your own -
Too few of yours - those few a revelation-
For muse you had, unique but little known.
 
Integrity and principles and ethics -
Your centre is a model for us all;
Your morals tolerated no cosmetics
Your honesty made others look so small.
With documents and records, dues and money,
Meticulous, and fair and all correct -
You never thought to try out 'something funny'
Since Caesar gets what Caesar should collect.
 
So loyal to your country and religion,
Devotion to them both seemed absolute -
Behind your mask, and rituals and tradition,
You battled doubts and furies, mostly mute.
Yet you got your pound-of-flesh: revenge in pension
From H.M.G. for two score years and five -
And kept them guessing, with some condescension,
Your secret for longevity: "Survive"!
 
But maybe you're as stubborn as the four of us
And just to spite 'them' forced yourself to stay!
The irony is how you did survive thus -
Your 'diet' a nutrient nightmare for today!
You sacrificed small luxuries, like smoking -
Though you never inhaled your pipe or C-to-Cs,
Till four decades of half-coronas later
Your doctor said "They're bad for you, so please..."!
 
You briefly gave up chocolate in the sixties
But salt and sugar came in generous heaps;
Now it isn't dread disease, nor crash, nor whiskies -
But a tooth that's just too sweet that comes and reaps;
Like special treats for your last fading taste-buds
You gorge chocolates for your final hurdle leap -
While 'Happy Birthdays' echo in your eardrums
You quietly sigh ''At last, at last'', and sleep.
 
 
With love and appreciation for so much more than any words of mine.

---oOo---

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