Aunty Fanny’s Funeral

Aunty Fanny’s Funeral

Auntie Fanny’s funeral—what a to-do!

Thirty stone for all to see.

“Did she have a mustache?”

Little Billy asked,

Dad’s cap came off,

A smack on the head.

The cortege rolls,

A tire goes pop,

Traffic stops in Liverpool.

The coffin slides—

Ba-bang! into the mud.

The bystanders gasp,

At least the box is sturdy.

Pretend tears shed,

Next, the will reading.

“To whom it may concern,”

Fred declared,

“Tom, my piss pot.

Nephews, a gallstone jar.

Harry, my car's debt is yours.”

An hour later,

Everyone is miffed,

“A tight old bugger,” they say.

To the pub for ham butties,

“To Fanny!” they toast,

A tight bugger but we care.