The old fella

When I was little your friends would say

‘By, he’s a chip off the ol’ block.’

I’d puff my chest out barrelled like yours

proud to come from good stock.

You raised me to know from young, old fella,

exactly what proper graft meant.

I felt from the roughness of your hands

what it took to pay the rent.

That was the way you did things.

Not always with words as I recall.

But in the actions that you took

like a catch before a fall.

Other-times there’d be lessons you’d teach

by letting me get summat wrong.

I look back on those times fondly now

and know they made me strong.

Now you’re on the other side, old fella,

probably supping a well-earned beer.

I’ll share those memories and lessons

with those I hold so dear.

And we’ll celebrate you as others do

a legend with a twinkle in his eye.

Because while heroes are remembered

legends never die.

In loving memory of Philip Anthony Mahoney.