In a little room at the top of the stairs
I was taken to see my grandfather.
Only his head was visible
framed by thin white hair,
a white beard flared over the sheet.
The head croaked like a worn-out frog
and then it stopped.
He'd only been sick a short time.
One day he was in the pub
the next he was standing over the fire-place
holding onto the mantle-piece
and shaking one leg after the other
swearing he'd mek t' buggers work.
A woman from next door called
to see if there was anything she could do.
Aye there is an' all,
bring a bottle o' gin
an' get in 'ere wi' me.