Nana rang on Monday ‘cause Poppa had passed away
a heart attack or so she said, during the tennis replay.
The funeral’s on Thursday, don’t forget to bring a plate
don’t worry if you’re held up, ‘cause Poppa was always late.
On Tuesday Uncle Ted called, as Bessie the cow had died
the old girl had cancer, he explained as he cried.
So she’s going to be buried, in the paddock next Friday
in memory of her service, provided faithfully each day.
Wednesday arrived without a hitch, well until it was almost over
when sure enough, from far away came a call from Dover
Sound asleep I was, when the phone rang ‘bout midnight
to tell me Auntie Sue had succumbed, to the effects of a spider bite.
Sure I’ll come to Tassie and mourn my aunt’s demise,
yes, it was a shock but with this week no surprise.
And then the dog started to cough, I swear I almost cried
sounded like a smoker’s cough. It wouldn’t stop no matter what I tried.
So here I am at 2 in the morn calling for a vet
needless to say it started to rain, so he arrived soaking wet.
He took her temp and listened for any unusual sound
it’s a chronic case of asthma, he finally declared out loud.
Of course, I’ll need some x-rays, and then there’s, tablets for the cure
it won’t be long and she’ll bounce back, of that he was quite sure.
I can’t believe the week I’ve had; I think I’ll start a log
the first entry has to be, three funerals and an asthmatic dog.