HMS Glory

[Brownlie]

When uncle Frank came back,
he said he’d been in a prison
and his body had eaten itself.
Edna gave him rice pudding
with a blob of jam,
it nearly killed her.

He gave away a bayonet
and a HMS hat with a black sash,
things like that scared him.
I hung them on my wall,
but they still shook,
when a door slammed.

The chip shop round the corner
changed to Mr Yips,
so future fish suppers
were caught in the Volvo.
Edna complained
it was too far to drive,
so she cooked.

Frank liked a pint
on a Friday night with the lads
at the Labour club,
mellowed by sitting to long
in his chair, broken by
heart and panic attacks,

I was his taxi collecting at ten
so Edna could relax and meet
with her friends.
Then belching bitter,
he asked me to stop and went
inside Mr Yips chip shop.

He said he’d forgot why he was so angry
and that Mr Yip seemed a very nice man,
too young to even remember the war,
I called him a pillock and said “that’s his son”
and that was it, just like that
Frank asked me could he have his hat back,
and told me all about the black sash.

Cool poem. Did you mean sitting too long? This reminds me of the opening lines of Richard 3 by shakespeare where Richard says: now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths,/ our bruised arms hung up for monuments,/ our stern alarums changed to merry meetings,/ our dreadful marches to delightful measures