Poetry Archives

Drunk or sober Uncle Jim
      Played the boy;
Never glum or sour or grim,
      Oozin’ joy.
Most folks thought he was no good,
      Blamin’ him;
But where kiddies were, you could
      Bank on Jim.
      
Sure he allus hated work,
      Lovin’ play.
“Jest a good fer nuthin’ jerk,”
      Lots would say.
Yet how the children fell for him,
      Whooped with glee:
Guys so popular as Jim
      Seldom be.

How old songs, sweet as a bell,
      He would sing!
What grand stories he would tell,
      Gesturin’!
Elders reckoned him a sot,
      Sighin’ sad;
But with tiny toddlers what
      Sport he had!

Might have had a brood, they said,
      Of his own;
Lost his wife in childbirth bed,
      Left him lone . . .
Well, now he is cold an’ still,
      Here’s to him:
Kids an’ mothers always will
      Bless old Jim.