Life with a zany grandma.Written after reading Jenny Joseph's poem 'Warning.' |
FINAL WARNING My grandma’s in the doghouse, She spat in the street today. My mother gave her a look to kill Then turned and walked away. But I just couldn’t help laughing, I think my grandma’s a star. I don’t mind the things she does, And I wish I could spit that far. My grandma wears a bright red hat And a trendy purple dress. My mother says they clash like hell And my grandma looks a mess. But I think my gran looks wonderful In her dress and scarlet hat. I know when I’m a grandma I’ll want to dress like that that. My grandma uses her walking stick To play tunes on every railing. Then she waves it at passing strangers, Which starts my mother wailing. I don’t understand my mother, She says my grandma’s sick. But I think she’s fit as a fiddle, You should see her play golf with her stick. My grandma buys bottles of brandy And hides them under her bed. My mother won’t allow her to drink, Says it makes her daft in the head. But when grandma’s had a tipple, I think she’s a bundle of fun. She nicks flowers from people’s gardens, And she’s ace at ‘knock a door run.’ My grandma goes shopping for sandals, And silk gloves for Sunday best. Then when her varicose veins play up, She sits on the pavement to rest. My mother goes into a frenzy, And gives her a final warning. Says if gran wants to act like a homeless tramp, She’ll turf her out in the morning. My grandma went out in her slippers, Walked miles in the pouring rain. My mother says she’ll send her away If she does something like that again. My mother is looking at old folk’s homes, A place for grandma to stay. But I’d rather look after grandma, And send my mother away. |