The year was 1922,
Nineteen years. A grown man, true.
Australia. Armed with book, not sword,
Expecting naught of fame. Reward.
To serve the land and serve the Lord.
On April 1, a telegram,
Sent to him from Pa and Mam,
“Great news!” it chortled. Not a joke,
(Cause you can trust your hometown folk!)
A baby brother had ‘awoke’.
He laughed and tossed the note aside,
Oh, what a joke, he then decried,
His Pa got better every year,
(With telltale grin from ear to ear.)
At making jokes his new career,
When he got home a few months hence,
And walked along the airport fence,
To greet his kin of cow and corn,
(That beautiful and sunny morn.)
He found a brother had been born!
He stopped and stared, then stared again,
His siblings now did number 10!
A crowd, a herd, a ‘not-a-few’,
(Yes, one more lad, they had accrued.)
His Pa just laughed at jaw askew.
He said, “My son, this Joke’s on you!”
Each month a tale, a 'tour de farce'
With wit that's plentiful or sparse,
All on a theme so fun. And new.
So tell me. How well did we do?
Karen of Baking In A
Tornado: The
Joke’s on You
Dawn of Cognitive Script:
Joker’s
Wild
Lydia of Cluttered
Genius: Stuck
on You
Not only did I smile because of your sheer whit, but because when my husband was in high school, away at boarding school, his youngest brother was born.
ReplyDeleteLovely to see another post from you. Expressed with your usual wit and flair.
ReplyDeleteNice to see your poem today, Diane - and it was a good one as always :) There were 11 kids in my dad's family too. The oldest were long gone when the youngest were (plural because twins) born :)
ReplyDeletehaha that would be something if your parents were always joking you really would not believe it. Great poem/story
ReplyDelete