Irish to the Core

Dad's Poem

Bobby was Irish to the core
Like good old 'County Monaghan' lore

Of rugged cliffs and ocean air
Filled with spirit of none-to-care

His ready smile and pat on back
Surely gave you quite a wack

A hearty laugh might ensue
Of which you were a chosen few

I think he thought he was Bad Bad Leroy Brown
Baddest man in the whole damn town

And that could very well be true
Because my mother was always calling, 'Bob where are you!!?"

He loved that song, with volume blasting
A memory we kids have,forever-lasting

Stuffed in the Buick, reveling in the fun
That was Dad,second-to-none

But all kidding aside
You were in terrible trouble if you lied

A Judge by profession
Certainly made for an interesting confession

One that you avoided like the plague
Dare you leave out any detail and be vague

But he had a heart of gold
Would give the shirt off his back, truth be told

He was banned from the kitchen as he made such a mess
Splattering eggs everywhere, much to my mother's duress

He ran away with glee
To find his book and settle thee

Charles Dickens was a fave
Which he kept in his man cave

But truly a man with good intentions
Even though he fell short with his procrastination's

We will remember him as a happy guy
And hope that he is still flying high

In the green, green rolling hills of home
I hope he gets to read this poem.