Habits of a Lifetime

Poems aren’t something I’d generally post here. I butted heads with my Secondary School English Teacher many times over my lack of appreciation for the form.

But this one deserves special mention. As the author is my Dad.

When I noticed it on a table and started to read he passed it off as “just some nonsense I wrote down”. As soon as I finished however, I made him finish it. Not only did I enjoy it; but it gave me an insight into how he feels about certain aspects of his past. It’s very interesting to sneak a peek behind the curtain.

I asked him if he’d be OK with me sharing it, and he acceded. So, here it is.

Habits of a Lifetime

Get thee to a puntery,
Where all we gamblers go.
Tis there we always get a buzz,
and luck swings to and fro.
Throughout my life I’ve liked a bet,
and also ladies pins.
Perhaps I should have learned by now,
They’re very costly things.
One day a win, the next a loss,
Keeps one’s nerves on edge.
Had I not succumbed to either,
I’d have gathered quite a wedge.
We punters need a thrill or two,
To keep us on our toes.
Maybe a boring pastime,
Doesn’t lead to any woes.
They kept my grey matter working,
But through habits that I’ve had,
It’s appeared sometimes I’m shirking,
Which makes me feel quite sad.
Still look, when out, at ladies pins,
But in a furtive way.
Don’t wish to hear them giggle,
And say “He’s had his day”.
Perhaps now, at three score years and ten,
I’ve had some things quite ample,
And decided that, at this ripe age,
Find something else to sample.
Crosswords, books and sudoku,
I do these things aplenty,
But then again I did them too,
When I was only twenty.
Became obsessed in tender years,
With the company of lasses.
When young of course I eyed their legs,
Without the help of glasses.
Was mesmerised almost at once,
Be female company.
Taking every chance I had,
To gaze at a fine knee.
Or any other piece of form,
That made me get a thought,
Of coming out with gibberish,
To gain what we lads sought.
Some may think this claptrap,
That I have just been talking.
Should be thrown in the nearest bin,
Then carry on a’walking.

Very interested in what you make of it. Whether you know my Dad or not. I’m sure he’d be intrigued too.

Thanks for reading.

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