Eulogy~2

                   Art 

This is a poem my brother wrote for our Uncle After he had died

             Art Richards Brand of Heaven


  "Getting old Ain't for sissies". and "never get as old as me";
     These are things I tried to teach you, Before the living kicked me free.

  I made my way to heaven; they knew i wasn't there to pray;
     Searched for "Greenwell, Murph, or Porter", or anyone that could say.

  Trying to confirm the rumor that has all the sportsmen in a fuss;
     Woulda been there quicker, but i wouldn't take abus.

  "Murph" couldn't call me, woulda told me if he couldl
     Can't believe the  fishing coulda ever been this good.

  A bite with every cast, not a thing to snag your line;
     Rainbow trout for smoking, and the bass filets---just fine.

  And the hunting is just  awesome, no need to put in for a tag;
     A trophy without walking, and you never have to drag. 

  The ducks just seem to flock in, I don'teven have to call;
     And Chukar running everywhere, old "Bomber" dog just has a ball.

  The bowling is the greatest, perfect oil every time;
     put the ball on the first boardl never have to hug the line.

  No sandbaggers on the golf course, and we play three hour rounds;
     All the greens roll true; ain't no hazards, traps, or out of bounds.

  This heaven thing could be the fancy, might even make us cheer,
     if we can only find a pool hall where a guy can have a beer.

  A place for puffing on my pipe, while i sip a glass of wine;
     And wait for a batch of bread to raise, things never looked  so fine.

  I know you might be missing me, I asked you not to  greave,
     if these pleasures  will continue, I'll lie, and say that "I believe"


                       © Neil Harris Sept 23 2002

©..... W. Edwin Harris