"Ee's not tekkin' it lyin' down,is our Dennis."
murmured Grandma Hodgetts with a nod towards the coffin.
"That Knockin,its the plumbin' gran." said Jenny,
her teen dream neice,chewing on a piece of gum.
Tha's no plumbin' in t' 'ouse o God, only pipes is fer
thunderin' organ." grandma rumbled glumly.
Vicar's solid wife struck up his favourite tune,
Rock Around The Clock, A teddy boy coughed.
"Put a fluorescent sock in it."
Its a bit much when your favourite uncle
falls off his Norton,gone for a burton at twenty four,
beneath the wheels of a double decker
on its way to Chorley.
All his mates with their DA's, drains,shoelace ties,
painfully piled quiffs, three quid a week spends,
bending my ear with cigarette smoke,
stinking of beer, start jiving in the aisle.
I looked for Jenny but she had a tongue down her throat
and a hand up her skirt behind the font at the back of the church.
"Dear God,why am i so young? My hair clipped, short back and sides,
grey pants with buttons not flies, sports jacket two sizes too big,
school tie, little fawn socks, neatly pressed pocket handkerchief.
If the time ever arrives when I'm allowed to be alive, it'll all have died.
A tiny Beatle crawled from behind a pew. I swear it winked as if it knew
that time time time was on my side, I'd get my ticket to ride in 1962,
when all the girls in the local dance hall would throw themselves
at my manly torso, screaming love love me do.
Jenny returned, knelt down to pray , a big smile on her face.
Death takes people in different ways I suppose,
but he was my favourite uncle, when he weren't led flat out,
comotose. Not much difference there then.