As read by the author.
Grandma was a sour old bat,
And nearing ninety three,
The best part of her life,
Was when she came to Rest in Peace.
She’d gone down to the dairy shed,
To milk the old cow ‘Bessie’,
And slipped up on a prairie cake,
All hot and wet and messy.
When Grandpa found her lying there,
So quietly by the cow,
He said “Oh damn, she’s snuffed it,
Who’s gonna cook tea now?
The flies had started gathering,
Grandma was on the nose,
So Grandpa found the nearest tap,
And sprayed her with the hose.
He didn’t know the doctors name,
And so he called the vet,
When he arrived he thought she’d drowned,
Because she was so wet.
The vet was fresh from Uni,
He’d studied at New South,
“I don’t know what she died from,
But she ain’t got foot and mouth.”
“We can’t just leave her lying there,
My God, just take a whiff,
We’d better call that bloke in town,
Who’s used to handling stiffs.”
The undertaker came from town,
His name was Milton Hemmingway,
“Don’t try too hard to do her up,
I didn’t like her anyway.”
With Grandma gone, well, Pop just cried,
But not from any grief,
Grandma had left the dinner on,
And burnt his spuds and beef.
At the funeral Pop wore his suit,
All moth eaten and grey,
He’d worn it last in 1910,
Upon their wedding day
He soon got angry with the priest,
And said, “For goodness sake,
I hope he stops his talking soon,
I can’t wait for the wake.”
Grandpa was a pall bearer,
He thought he’d have some fun,
He put the coffin in the hearse,
And left the lock undone.
The hearse drove off quite slowly,
Just over walking pace,
To the cemetery down by the sea,
And Grandma’s resting place.
The hearse was an old dodge van,
And not bad in its day,
But half way down the mountain side,
The brake cable gave way.
The hearse sped onward down the hill,
And past the sign that said,
‘Trucks use low gear, winding road’
And ‘steep decent ahead’.
The speedo clocked one fifty,
As down the hill they flew,
It hit a patch of broken glass,
And all the tires blew.
It started skidding on the rims,
The axles , then the shocks,
They rolled it on a hair pin bend,
And out flew Grandma’s box.
The coffin tumbled down the hill,
And knocked over a tree,
It shot over the weathered cliffs,
And plunged into the sea.
Then Grandpa started laughing,
He was so charged with emotion,
To see his wife in a pine box,
Drift off into the ocean.
So we have a plaque for Grandma,
With words written tenderly,
Just to show how much we loved her,
It says “Grandma, Lost at sea.”
© copyright A Jack 1984