The Iron Recliner

When I was young,

On my dad’s lap I sat

To watch the ball game

With a Sunday nap

But the damndest thing

The loveseat he used

Was made only of iron

And left me all bruised

Day after day

He’d sit and recline

I’d wondered who thought

Of his foolish design

All things have their place

Of that I’ve no doubt

And iron as well

Only, not as a couch

The day that he passed

The chair was willed on

So I built a fire

And I melted it gone.