Gone

Another 'Daddy' Story.
In rhyme, because I love it!

It's all true!

“Great Grampa,” said the strong young chap,

You’ve lived a very long lifetime,

Please share with me just what to do,

To stay forever in my prime.”

The aged cowboy tipped his hat 

And gave the boy a level look,

“Don’t git your lariat in a knot. There

Ain’t no script and no guidebook.

But one thing I kin tell you, sure,

(Though first, the thought may not appeal!)

It has to do with eatin’, Son,

Each mornin’, gunpowder on your meal.”

The boy just nodded. That, he’d try.

Then every day, without debate,

He’d sprinkle just a pinch or so

Of sulfur, charcoal, and nitrate.

Yep. Every morn on his oatmeal.

It worked! He saw a hundred three,

And when he died, at that great age,

He left a large posterity.

He left his children. (Fourteen!) Yep.

And grandkids? Thirty. It is true.

And great-grands, forty-five of them.

And great-greats? five and twenty. Whew!

And there’s one more thing he left behind,

I’ll mention it and then I’ll quit.

The handsome crematorium?

Now a twelve-foot, smoking pit.