Bib fronted overalls walking to school
Transport in those days
Was never the rule.
The farm in the hillside of Americas south
Organic grown produce
To melt any mouth.
Joe get the mule,theres fields to be tended
Corn to be picked
It just never ended.
A family of seven,each had their own chores
Sometime for playing
But never make wars
Joe joined the airforce,new path he took
Twenty good years
Yes becoming a cook
He travelled the world,saw many things
Settled in England
Life threw a few stings
A change of career,new path to follow
Then cancer it struck him
So hard this to swallow
Joe fought it all his way
Expecting to win
Admired by so many
With hisdrawl and his grin.
I held his hand,right to the end
Forty years of a marriage
My heart will not mend
I imagine the welcome,from one and from all
As he walked into heaven Saying,Hi there you all.
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