She told me her dad was a very good poet
That he was a wordsmith well worthy of note
She read two of his poems to me he was one who did write well
He surely was not a man of doggerel
She said writing poetry is a 'hungry belly game'
For my dad in it there was no wealth or fame
A talented wordsmith but a stranger to renown
One not even famous in his side of the town
Her father was one who never made a foe
He passed quietly from life a few decades ago
My mum she outlived him by just a few years
As she spoke of her parents she seemed close to tears
She said my dad worked hard for his every pay
And some of his poems are recited today
A good dad to me and a good husband to my mum his wife
In him she did find the great love of her life.