Stories from the Stringam Family Ranches of Southern Alberta

From the 50s and 60s to today . . .



All of My Friends

Monday, February 20, 2017

In the Beginning...

It's time for 'Poetry Monday' again!
Let's face it, Mondays need the help!

In the Beginning:
When Father made the donkey, He said, “Fifty years is yours!”
“And you’ll eat only grass and do all the heavy chores.”
“And you will not be known as the ‘sharp knife in the drawer’ . . .”
The donkey said, “That time’s too much, gimme twenty years. No more.”

Then Father made the dog and told him he’d look after man,
He would be known as man’s best friend and serve the best he can.
He’d eat whate’er they gave him and live twenty years. Plus five.
The dog said, “Twenty-five’s too much. Just ten I’ll be alive.”

Now Father thought He’d have some fun and so the monkey made.
Who’d jump around from branch to branch there in the jungle glade.
He’d silly act and silly walk and live twenty silly years.
The monkey said, “That’s twice too much. For ten, I’ll volunteer.”

And then when he’d made the others, Father finally got to man.
He said, “You’ll be a thinker. With a twenty-year lifespan.”
“You’ll dominate the others, be the top guy everywhere.”
But man, he said. “No disrespect, but hold your horses there.”

“Twenty years is not enough, so can we make a deal?”
“The creatures cast their time away, those years I’ll gladly steal.”
And Father nodded thoughtfully and said, “That sounds okay.”
The two shook hands, their bargain made, and still it stands today.

So, man lives twenty years as man, then to an adult, turns,
And lives his thirty ‘donkey’s years—his daily bread he earns.
Then caring for his house and eating anything he’s given,
He spends his fifteen ‘doggie’s’ years, just thinking he’s in heaven.

It’s time to use his ‘monkey’s' years soon after he retires,
To silly be. And playing like his hair's been set afire.
This last decade, he gets to do the ‘dos’ he never ‘dids’,
This time’s the best of all, he spending it with his grandkids!
       

7 comments:

  1. I'm sure I was the monkey 10 years ago...

    ReplyDelete
  2. That is so perfect. I'm a monkey. I love it.

    ReplyDelete
  3. My husband loves monkeys for real. I must be a monkey .hee hee. Love the post. Thanks for sharing.

    ReplyDelete
  4. The part about the donkey has made me cry, Diane. They've truly been beasts of burden, haven't they? You've put this story into such a wonderful poem! A great way to start off Poetry Monday!

    ReplyDelete
  5. I don't know how you do it Dianne.
    This was a great read, thank you

    "This time’s the best of all, he spending it with his grandkids!"
    Yes, for all us blessed with grandkids - they are an absolute joy

    Wishing you a good week ahead

    All the best Jan

    ReplyDelete
  6. Well done! I like this a lot. I'm close to the monkey years, but my grandchildren are all grown up. I'm looking forward to playing with great-grands eventually.

    ReplyDelete

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Diane was born and raised on one of the last of the great old Southern Alberta ranches. A way of life that is fast disappearing now. Through her memories and stories, she keeps it alive. And even, at times, accurate . . .

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