Uncle Andy

Uncle Andy


My uncle Andy was a terrible man,

eating his lunch straight out of a pan.

Visiting Andy was never a chore,

until getting a screwdriver to get through the door.



A mild mannered man people would think.

That was till Andy took to the drink.

He’d bang on the table demanding his dinner,

telling no-one at all about backing a winner.


More losers than winners came of the bets.

Alice and Andy were swallowed by debts

Gave his family much grief. That is no lie.

My poor auntie Alice was often made cry.



Aunt Alice is feisty, not often unheard,

Born on the day that war was declared.

The rows that they had were never too tame.

The paper he’s reading, reduced to a flame.





Though she loved him, there was much to adore,

Alice had enough and showed him the door.

To this predicament Andy was forced;

You’ve got it now, they got divorced.



They both remarried and got to be friends.

Alice was there right at the end.

Now uncle Andy, sadly is dead.

She can’t get the bugger out of her head.