©Jan Millward, 2018

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A Welsh funeral.

August 21, 2017

 

It seems most family gatherings 
are for births and deaths and hitches.
It's very seldom all of these
go off without some  glitches.

 

But the Welsh they love a funeral
with all that it entails,
so when we have to go to one
we prefer the ones in Wales.

 

We know there will be sandwiches
and cakes both big and small,
sausage rolls and vol au vents
will adorn the village hall.

 

The Welsh know how to party
after the sad goodbyes.
Especially if there's tea involved 
and buns and fresh pork pies.

 

All the Aunts and uncles
will be  dressed in sombre black,
with handbags for the left overs
(they always take some back).

 

And after the church service,
at the front of every queue.
You know who will be waiting,
it's always Uncle Hugh.

 

When all the prayers are over
and we've sent them off to heaven.
We'll have sucked on ancient toffees
handed out by cousin Evan.

 

The vicars switched the lights off
and chats to Jones the news,
They pick up all the hymn books
from the now empty pews.

 

You can always spot the farmers
they are stuffed in too small suits.
With black under their fingernails
and mud upon their boots.

 

And the one who does most talking
well his name is Joseph Morgan.
But he is always called round here
“Jo who plays the organ”.

 

You can always spot our Gareth
he's the one who didn't marry,
Gladys from the Rhondda
and now he lives in Barry.

 

And look there by the window.
It's the lovely sweet Rhianna,
who sings just like an angel
and is handy with a spanner.

 

It's a chance to meet the family
and hear all their latest news
so thank you to the Davies's,
The Roberts and the Pughs.

 

The folk from down the valleys
with the names without a vowel
from Dai the coal and Aled
and the lovely family Powell.

 

There's always a warm welcome
in those ancient hills and vales.
And so until the next time
Thanks to the folk in Wales.
Jan Millward©

 

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