Pop is in the Garden

I once knew a man with green fingers
The memory of him forever lingers
A tall chap, long nose, with a lovely kept beret
Who used to keep his vegetables rather merry,
So much so that all his tender courgettes,
Alas, beat every other’s at the village fetes!

Beating around the bush was not in his nature,
That is unless at a shoot up in the pasture!
Indeed, never short of a couple of funny anecdotes,
This man could whip up a sharp remark in one, two shots.

He had a few dietary lessons for all of us sinners,
Crunchy nut for breakfast, chocolate after lunch and cognac after dinners,
Not to mention a diary he kept by his favourite chair
And a tiny not pad as a brain, kept in his pocket just there,
So never dared I challenge his memory,
As he probably knew our family holidays from A to Zee

From being Pop, Panto queen to the best potato peeler,
Nothing was ever too much for this extraordinary bricoleur!

So, let me test my own memory…
Perhaps what would help is a glass of sherry?
Faithful diary writer, dedicated Italian learner, humble gardener,
Proud stew maker, the only dish washer allowed in the family, perfect meat carver,
Adoring husband, father, grandfather uncle and much much more…

Have I missed anything? Of that I am sure…