Bob's Yer Uncle

Uncle Bob played tea-chest bass,

in the Mile End Skiffle Band,

Mum said that he was dif-fer-ent

- I wouldn’t understand.

On my sister’s wedding day,

at the piss-up in the Duck,

he was holding Vernon’s hand

and many a tooth was sucked.

He bought a pint of rum-and-pep,

he did it for a dare;

he took one sip and poured the rest

on Aunty Peggy’s hair.

He moved away when I was ten,

to Brighton or the coast,

at the family gatherings

was when I missed him most.

He came back in ‘83

thin and joy-bereft:

his joker’s mouth was widow-thin

- he wasn’t the Bob who’d left.

He lived quite close on Crupper Road,

and drank indoors, alone,

I went a few times, took him rum,

or called him on the phone.

Bob died in 1996,

we burned him at the crem,

Peggy came to see him off,

‘Not bad for “one of them.”’