Related quotes: Great Grandfather was ninety-nine And...

The Centenarian

Great Grandfather was ninety-nine
And so it was our one dread,
That though his health was superfine
He'd fail to make the hundred.
Though he was not a rolling stone
No moss he seemed to gather:
A patriarch of brawn and bone
Was Great Grandfather.

He should have been senile and frail
Instead of hale and hearty;
But no, he loved a mug of ale,
A boisterous old party.
'As frisky as a cold,' said he,
'A man's allotted span
I've lived but now I plan to be
A Centenarian.'

Then one night when I called on him
Oh what a change I saw!
His head was bowed, his eye was dim,
Down-fallen was his jaw.
Said he: 'Leave me to die, I pray;
I'm no more bloody use . . .
For in my mouth I found today--
A tooth that's loose.'

poem by Robert William Service
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An Old Man With His Hat

There Little Robbie found him in an old yellow album
A blurred picture of a half old man with his hat
Standing in front of the coffin
He smiles shy but wide with his teeth gone making a hole like Little Robbie when he lose his baby teeth
Little Robbie doesn’t recognize him and he wonder where he is now
Maybe he is one of his grandfathers, one of his great uncles, one of his old families
So he asks to his big sister
But his sister doesn’t recognize him and she wonder who he is
Maybe he is one of his grandfathers, one of his great uncles, one of his old families
So he asks to his mother
But his mother doesn’t recognize him and she wonder how he was there
Maybe he is one of his grandfathers, one of his great uncles, one of his old families
So he asks to his father
But his father doesn’t recognize him and he wonder what he did there
Maybe he is one of his grandfathers, one of his great uncles, one of his old families
So he asks to his uncle
But his uncle doesn’t recognize him and he wonder when the picture taken
Maybe he is one of his grandfathers, one of his great uncles, one of his old families
So he asks hopelessly to his grandfather
His grandfather takes a deep look to that picture and wonders why Little Robbie asks
Little Robbie says, “I want to meet him! I want to know about him! I want to play with him! ”
Maybe he is one of his grandfathers, one of his great uncles, one of his old families
But his grandfather shakes his head, “No, he is not.”
He is not one of his grandfathers, one of his great uncles, one of his old families
He is just an old man with his hat
“He accompanied your great grandfather when he sick until his death. This picture is taken in a burial of your great grandfather.”
His grandfather stares at little Robbie
“Now, are you disappointed? ”
He is not one of his grandfathers, one of his great uncles, one of his old families
He is just an old man with his hat
Little Robbie shakes his head, “No, I am not.”
Though he is not one of his grandfathers, one of his great uncles, one of his old families
Though he is just an old man with his hat
“But I still want to meet him, I want to know about him, and I want to play with him! ”
And then he could be one of his grandfathers, one of his great uncles, one of his old families

poem by Maria Sudibyo
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They Are Tearing Down My Grandfather's House

(An NLP Editor's Choice Award Winner in Verdant Lands of Spring) They are tearing down my Grandfather's house,
it's made of wood and brick and stone.
The windows they've removed. To them it's real
estate, to me it's my heart being ripped in two.
The realtors, the bankers, the moneymen don't understand.
A house is more than made of wood, a house is made of man. My Grandfather's house is a memory that will
endure after it's torn down.
He's been gone for near thirty years, but his
house had lived on.
I know the world is made of change, and change
is all that's real. But one thing I cannot change,
that is the way I feel. I wipe a tear in the falling rain,
because they are tearing down my Grandfather's
house, and it gives me pain.
I love him as if it were yesteryear,
his wit and smile as warm as the sun.
The house once stood to remind me, but that too
is gone. They are tearing down my Grandfather's house,
it's made of wood and brick and stone.
Yet a house if more than made of wood,
a house is made of love.

poem by David A. Webb
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The Old Family Picture

In the old
black-and-white
family picture,
I see
great grandfather
dead drunk
with his hat
slightly skewed.
In the same old
black-and-white
family picture,
I see
grandfather
as drunk as
his father is
with his hat
also slightly skewed.
Father fools
great grandfather
and grandfather
with his rice-washed-water
as the good old home-made
Makoli.
They all believe him.
1996

poem by Sangnam Nam
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Trouble

Trouble
Don't you see
That in your bed
I find no sleep
I confess you came because of me
Trouble get behind me now
Trouble let me be
Cold wet stone
Deep river bed
Once so clean and clear now runs red
You know to well
Was me that called you here
Trouble get behind me now
Trouble let me be
Oh sweet day
Leave me behind
I will never call on you
Until the day I die
Pray your mercy shine on me
Pray your mercy shine
Here I stand
Head bowed for thee
My empty heart begs you
Leave me be
But I confess
You know too well
That I have fallen
Pray your mercy give to me
Pray your mercy shine
Trouble I'll not
Trouble thee
Let your mercy shine
Cold wet stone
River deep and red
Your cold heart beats inside my head
You know too well
It was me that brought you here
Ohhh trouble get behind me now
Trouble let me be
I pray your mercy shine on me
Trouble let me be

song performed by by Dave Matthews Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Raspberry Tea and Empathy

She sipped her cup of hot raspberry tea
Jumbled thoughts bounced in her head
Staring at a ceramic bowl of potpourri
Would this be another day to dread?

Why did her husband have to die?
First Iraq, then two tours in Afghanistan
She is no longer able to cry
This wasn't in their life plan

She knows she still has it good
He always thought of her first
Enlisted to provide a livelihood
Lived and loved it; went fully immersed

Each day morphed into the next
Now a year has came and gone
She still clings to his personal effects
Her grandfather died near Saigon

Her grandma always seemed lost
Having no body to bury was the worst
The wall has his name embossed
He'd be seventy on the twenty-first

It's nearly 12: 30 and there is the phone
Chaplin wants her to accompany him
Talk with a new widow so she won't feel alone
She always goes when the news is grim

The military price her family has paid is high
Her grandfather and husband would be pleased
Genuine empathy for others is in short supply
War is the most terrible thing man ever conceived

poem by Charles Hancock
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The Mean Hunter

my grandfather still bend in his mattress
when we wake up
we as his grandchilds
have to leave the job
because with the job
live to become more having a meaning
my grandfather remain
to do not want to wake up
when evening
when we come home the
grandfather gived a smile and enquire to us
Have you grasp that meaning
we at a time reply
not yet
grandfather kept quiet, but at his hearts
remain to hunt the meaning
what he not yet earn also
by himself, in the corner of silent

poem by Prasetya Utama
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The moss that loves the stone

It is the moss that loves the stone
Most. No matter what or when, the
Moss somehow manages to stay
Even without a why, they say.
But the moss keeps on sticking
To the body of the stone that
Keeps its nonminding stiffness.
It is cold, it is hard, it is unfeeling
At all. It is the moss that keeps its
Love. It sticks with it, rain or shine.
It rolls with it. It stays with it even
In the desert, even it if means its
Own death. It is the moss that sticks
To the stone. It is its true lover.
In the river, the water has ordered
The moss to leave. It ordered the stone
To crush it. The moss cannot be
Removed. It covered the stone.
It is loving it whole.The stone has
Become the moss, and the stone
Is gone.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Anglo Boer war

When that wimp of a Englishman
called Cecil John Rhodes
decided that he wanted gold,
that the diamonds in his pockets
was not enough

he wanted to see that British Union Jack flutter,
over the whole of Southern Africa
to his queen he went
to enchant her patriotic soul
to claim the Orange Free State
and Transvaal Republics as British territories

to sent three thousand
Christian farmers to their deaths,
to burn farmsteads down to the ground,
to throw salt in the lands,
to slaughter every animal there,

to murder twenty thousand women
and children
in concentration camps

and to loose twenty eight thousand
of the queen’s own as killed, as dead
shot through the heart, shot through the head.

[Note: My own great grandmother died in a British concentration camp and my great grandfather was sent by the British to St. Helena as a prisoner of war and as a result of this, my grandfather grew up in a orphanage.]

poem by Gert Strydom
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This Is No Fish Story

We had been up and down Redwood Creek
For what seemed to me to be all day
Watching my grandfather fish for salmon
We started at the mouth of the river

Hiked over sand rocks and slippery green moss
The only reason I was there was
The fried chicken and potato salad
My grandmother made the night before

Lunch seemed so far away
My grandfather was out of sight
He had worked his way upstream
When we heard him yell 'FISH ON! '

My grandmother who had been hanging back with me
Left me in the sand
I had to move fast to catch up
Moving around large pieces of driftwood

He had certainly hooked something
His rod bending if half then straightening
As he let line out
With the reel's drag on

I knew how to fish
I just didn't like to
I had no patience
I wasn't like bird hunting

If I got bored bird hunting
When I was by myself
With just my dog
I could take a shot anyway

Just for practice
To get the dog used to the noise
Because I had no patience
At the age of twelve

I had never seen so much line out before
He kept backing further up the wide beach
It looked to me as if the fish knew the way
And was headed back to the ocean

Hook in his mouth
My guess was he was no longer
In the mood for spawning
He had my grandfather on

Nothing personal on either side
My grandfather wanted to land the salmon
The salmon it appeared wanted
My grandfather in the water

This primal tug of war
Went on for some time
The salmon tried everything
It tried going behind submerged trees

It woud take a run
Straight at the beach
My grandfather reeling in the slack
As fast as he could

The salmon would then jump high
Doubling back away yanking on the line
Trying to dislodge the hook
Or snap the line (he'd been on before)

They were both getting tired
My grandfather timed the next
Pull on his fishing rod
With the jump of the salmon

Too close to shore this time
The beast was on the beach in front of me
My grandfather was still reeling in line
He knew it wasn't landed yet

He was hollering for my grandmother
To grab a piece of driftwood
To club the monster
Who was glaring at me with one eye

His other eye was in the sand
My grandfather's shinning metal lure
Stuck out of a bloody mouth
Gills were grasping for oxygen in dry air

I swear I saw in that eye the reflection
Of my grandmother running
A hunk of driftwood in hand
The eye saw it too

With one last flop like a large wrestler
Just before the count of three
He went up into the air
Snapped the line hit the water and was gone

I'm not sure what pound test the line was
Whatever it was it wasn't enough
My gandfather's favorite lure
With his hand-tied leader

Were following their catch
As fast as they could
Not knowing it was they
That had been caught

poem by Tom J. Mariani
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I guess one of the funniest memories of my grandfather was the time I was at his house and that tied-up man with the gag in his mouth came hopping out of the closet and started yelling that HE was really my grandfather and the other guy was an imposter and to run for help. Who was that guy Oh, well, never saw HIM again.

Jack Handey in Deep Thoughts
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Grandfather Clock

The old grandfather clock stood in the hall
It kept time for us all
Through winter, spring, summer, fall

When I was young I would say
The big hand is on five today
and that's how I told time that way

As I progressed in age
Time was read in the correct usage
And time became more of a gauge

Time to go to school and learn
Time to work for what you earn
Time to leave no stone unturned

Time for weddings dresses worn
Time for children to be born
Time for graduation gowns adorned

Time for me, time for you
Time to see things through
Time for living and dieing too

The old grandfather clock still keeps time
Counting the hours that life is prime
So make the most or be left behind

poem by JoJo Bean
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Grandfather, Grandfather

Grandfather, Grandfather,
what do pandas say?
Grandfather, Grandfather,
as among the rocks they roll
and rather sadly play
a game that seems
to do with dreams
of places far away.
Grandfather, Grandfather,
what do pandas say?

Grand-daughter, Grand-daughter,
when the pandas play
rather sadly in the rocks
this is what they say
to one another as they seem
to remember in a dream
those places far away:
'Let us tell no one
the word that we say
softly to one another
as we roll and play.
For if they ever heard it,
the tall two-legged Understanders
who always want to know what pandas
like us love to say,
yes, if they ever heard it
they would take it away.'

poem by George Barker
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If You Only Knew

By my grandfather's bed, my mother is reading,
Psalm 62, God is our refuge,
My grandfather stirs, could it be,
he is waking, one final time,
he has something to say,
If you only knew what lies awaiting
If you could only see what I can see
If you could only hear the music playing
The angels singing sweet victory
Oh, if you only knew, if you only knew,
How much he loves you
By my grandfather's bed, my mother is broken,
Psalm 17, O God I call on you,
She doesn't want to hear
Any words about leaving
My grandfather says

song performed by by Randy Travis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Jesse James

(neil morris)
I'll tell you about jesse and frank james
My grandfather was personally acquainted with them
My grandfather lived in the southern edge of baxter county, arkansas
And they stayed all night with him lots of nights
And my grandfather told me there was a lot of those robberies that was layed to jesse and frank james
And he knew they didn't do it 'cause they was at his place when it happened
But you couldn't tell the public that
When they get their minds made up that somebody's done something
Why the public's gonna stick to it anyway
My grandfather, he knew them as boys
And they could come to his place and go without anybody paying attention 'cause nobody expected them
Down in arkansas, see, 'cause they was from missouri
Now that's the story that my grandfather told me when i was just a boy
And he said that frank james, at that world's fair,
I think it was 1901 in st. louis him and jesse were both there
My grandfather and frank james were together there
And that frank james offered to bring jesse there alive
He said that the man that the ford boys killed wasn't jesse james at all
But the fellow they killed was just about the size of jesse and he was red headed
And he wasn't any relation to the fords
See, jesse james was a known cousin to charles and bob ford
That's what my grandfather said
He said jesse and frank were not even in that part of the country when that fellow was killed
And the ford boys, why, they collected a thousand dollars for killing jesse james!
Now the song says that the ford boys killed jesse
None of us up here in the mountains believe that, no sir!

song performed by by Ry Cooder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Pastoral

Just as the sun was setting
Back of the Western hills
Grandfather stood by the window
Eating the last of his pills.

And Grandmother, by the cupboard,
Knitting, heard him say:
'I ought to have went to the village
To fetch some more pills today.'

Then Grandmother snuffled a teardrop
And said. 'It is jest like I suz
T’ th’ parson—Grandfather’s liver
Ain’t what it used to was:

'It’s gittin’ torpid and dormant,
It don’t function like of old,
And even them pills he swallers
Don’t seem no more t’ catch hold;

'They used to grab it and shake it
And joggle it up and down
And turn dear Grandfather yaller
Except when they turned him brown;

'I remember when we was married
His liver was lively and gay,
A kickin’ an’ rippin’ an’ givin’
Dear Ezry new pains ev’ry day;

'It used to turn clear over backwards
An’ palpitate wuss’n a pump
An’ give him the janders and yallers
An’ bounce around thumpty-thump;

'But now it is torpid and dormant
And painless and quiet and cold;
Ah, me! all’s so peaceful an’ quiet
Since Grandfather’s liver ’s grown old!

Then Grandmother wiped a new teardrop
And sighed: 'It is just like I suz
T’ th’ parson: Grandfather’s liver
Ain’t what it used to was.'

poem by Ellis Parker Butler
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Sonnet: Senescence

All love to reach a ripe old age in life;
A long life-span is Maker’s gift to some;
Attaining hundred years is not so rife;
To most, a peaceful death is just welcome.

Old age gives time to think and pray to God;
Past memories of good and bad days flash;
Diseases, frailty are the only rod;
Some find it difficult to eat or wash.

Some lucky ones are hale and hearty still;
Their loving kith and kin, so often throng;
Some pray that they must never fall down ill;
Some spend their old age engrossed in some song.

Not all old-timers leave the world quite fast;
In somnolence profound, some breathe their last!

Dedicated to all old persons, who keep their cheer.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 3-11-2008

poem by John Celes
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Don't Forget who is your Father

God is Great
He created you and me so ladies and gentleman
he is the only person to praise and pray
Cause some of us we pray Alan people you pray him
who is him God is the one who created us
so guys help me to Thank him every time i'm sick i call him cause
he is the hiller the killer of diseases in the world
Help me to sing.
How great is our God sing with me how great is our God
all we sing is how great is our God age to age praise his
Great great great great great
great great great great great great great
great great great great great great great
great great great great great great great great great great great

GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD GOD..

Thank you Help me pliz.

poem by Ruvimbo Daisy Matsika
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Dads Bad News

Dont believe a word your grandfather says
Hes been classified grade a psycotik
You can see it from the hole in his head
A saner man would have used a bigger gun
Degeneration ah ah ah ah ah
The lunatic clause was written for you
The story spoken is a story unheard
By you so listen cause its unbelievable
A certain trait has passed while while centuries turned
This certain trait has been a family tradition
No simple way to tell you son
We share the same red tainted blood
Im gonna kill me, youre gonna kill you
Killing you
Dont believe a word your grandfather says
Dont believe a word your grandfather says
Dont believe a word your grandfather says
Hes a psycotik, grade a psycotic

song performed by by NOFX
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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And The Money Kept Rolling In (And Out)

Che: And the money kept rolling in from every side

Eva's pretty hands reached out and they reached wide
Now you may feel it should have been a voluntary cause
But that's not the point my friends
When the money keeps rolling in you don't ask how
Think of all the people guaranteed a good time now
Eva's called the hungry to her open up the doors
Never been a fund like the Foundation Eva Peron

Rolling rolling rolling
Rolling rolling rolling
Rolling rolling rolling
Rolling rolling rolling
Rolling rolling rolling
Rolling rolling rolling
Rolling rolling rolling
Rolling rolling rolling
Rolling on in rolling on in rolling on in rolling on in on in

Would you like to try a college education
Own your landlord's house take the family on vacation
Eva and her blessed fund can make your dreams come true
Here's all you have to do my friends
Write your name and your dream on a card or a pad or a ticket
Throw it high into the air and should our lady pick it
She will change your way of life for a week or even two
Name me anyone who cares as much as Eva Peron

And the money kept rolling out in all directions
To the poor to the weak to the destitute of all complexions
Now cynics claim a little of the cash has gone astray
But that's not the point my friends
When the money keeps rolling out you don't keep books
You can tell you've done well by the happy grateful looks
Accountants only slow things down figures get in the way
Never been a lady loved as much as Eva Peron

Eva

When the money keeps rolling out you don't keep books
You can tell you've done well by the happy grateful looks
Accountants only slow things down figures get in the way
Never been a lady loved as much as Eva Peron

song performed by by Madonna from Evita Soundtrack (Part 2)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rolling Stone

Sitting on the front porch,
Waiting for you to come home.
Visions of reuniting in my head.
Only bitter-sweet memories, no holidays, no Christmas trees.
Broken promises I've got instead.
How I used to wonder, "Where did I go wrong?
How you could have stayed away so long?"
Thank God for my mother,
Her's was no easy song.
Thank God that He showed me how to get along.
My papa was a rolling stone.
Abandon us and left us 'lone.
And how he broke my heart and hope; had me loose my faith.
Somebody knows what I've been through.
I've understood, I've been there too.
So let me introduce you to my father, Father.
Your story sounds alot like mine.
It's a story heard a thousand times.
Someone hurting leaves in disaray.
Don't you know that God made you more valuable than they ever knew?
You know you can live past their mistakes.
Oh, how I used to wonder "How could all this be?
Someone that you loved so much just turns their back and leaves."
Oh, you need the lover of you soul and
He is able to take care of you annd
He will never leave.
Your papa was a rolling stone.
Abandoned you and left you 'lone.
And how he broke your heart and hope.
He had me loose my faith.
I'm seeing what you're going through.
I understand, I've been there too.
So let me introduce you to my father, Father.
I was lost and out of controle.
Then He found me and saved my soul.
Let me lead you to the one I know.
He can make you whole.
No longer I wonder,
Solid ground under my feet.
I know what my life is worth,
No longer incomplete.
I just want to tell you,
You are truly loved,
By the Maker of the Heavens,
the Creator of the Earth.
You know He's got His hands on you and
That is more than enough.
My papa was a rolling stone.
Abandoned us and left us 'lone.
And how he broke my heart and hope; had me loose my faith.
Somebody saw what I've been through.
They understood, They've been there too.
They gladly introduced me to my father, Father.
Your papa was a rolling stone.
Abandoned you and left you 'lone.
And how he broke your heart and hope.
He had me loose my faith.
I'm seeing what you're going through.
I understand, I've been there too.
So let me introduce you to my father, Father.
Tell me what you're going through.
I understand, I've been there too.
So let my introduce you to my father, Father.
God...

song performed by by Out Of Eden
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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