Mckenzie Quilter & Mustache Grampa

The Funeral
A local old timer had quietly passed onTo his eternal reward up on high.
So the day of this service a bunch of us gatheredTo give him a final goodbye.
As we entered the church we doffed our hatsSigned the book on the stand by the door
Kinda moseyed on over to see Bud one last timeAs he lay in his funeral repose.
We all gandered once an then twice an twice an again'Cause somethin' was plenty amiss.
We stood scratchin' our heads when finally Ed says, "Does anyone know who this is?
A round of "Not me's!" flurried out past the lips of the crew that was gathered nearby
an without no exceptions the pervailing preceptionWas that none of us knew this here guy.
Then Chuck up and says, "I don't think Bud even owned a suit and a tie!
As long as I knew him he always wore bibs,Blue, of a generous size!
An you boys all know as well as I doBud wouldn't be caught dead with no cap.
An need I point out, this fella is bald!Just a few scraggly hairs on his tap!"
"He's right," Harley pipes, "Take a close look!Why this fella don't even chew snoose!"
"Check out that tie an' the front of this shirt,Ain't even one speckle a juice!"
"Whoa!" we all nodded, thinkin' "Son of a gun!"Still, we hung in there for coffee an pie.
But out on the prairie at the ol' cemeteryWe all knew...they buried the wrong guy!
© 2003, DW Groethe, from West River Waltz