Henry

I knew an old man, Henry
He was huge, brave and hairy
On a beach away from the ferry
He lived, happy and merry

A little insect crawled up his foot
And ‘ah hu, ah ha!’ he did hoot
Hopping about like an Indian goof
But smiling and strong after the suit

He told of stories, strange to all
Blackened by the Sun’s heavy ball
Waving an imaginary gun up above peoples head in
the hall
Marching and staggering, holding the walls

He was this, he was that
He bragged and all must
For every reason be quiet
For a drunkard, a fall was imminent

And so he lived all about this town
Caring for nothing, but cheap curtseys and bows
Wiping tears moulded across his brow
His collar stiff and muscles brawn

And then to the dust he went
And on his grave, was a print
‘To a fair soldier, strong and gallant
To whom his people he bullieth!’