Conkers

I killed my brother with a conker, accidentally of course
We were playing and my string snapped right in twain.
The conker sped towards him and it hit him on the nose
And sent septum splinters right into his brain.
Mum was quite unhappy when I told her what'd passed
Dad was gutted by this tragic loss of twine,
Mum took to eating lots of meals to ease her pain away
While my father simply lost himself in wine.
The Tuesday of the funeral my Granddad came around
Said I had to dress up nice and wear a tie.
He made me polish both my shoes and told me when I asked
That that's just the thing you do when people die.
My dad was still quite hammered as we walked into the church
He kept mumbling in an unendearing way.
Mother's new found fatness got her stuck between the pews
And the Vicar didn't know quite what to say.
The wake was uneventful save for Granddad's heart-attack
And the mouse that fell asleep on the hors d'oeuvres.
My father walked out halfway through and went down to the pub
Whilst my mother ate the food she'd meant to serve.
No-one seemed to see me as I sat there by myself
Wishing hard that I had bought some stronger thread.
My parents were imbibing in their own internal worlds
But my brother couldn't eat 'cause he was dead.