On a grey day in November

The old hearse drones along

O’er village street,

Go shuffling feet,

A sad bewildered throng.

With heads bent low,

They’ll never know

Why fell this verdant leaf,

In healthy prime,

Before his time

Leaving shock and grief.



A ‘character’ of charm and wit,

To brighten a grey day.

Never sly,

But sometimes shy,

With only good to say.

In him they saw a future

With gifts beyond his years,

But now they sigh,

And wonder why,

It’s ended all in tears.


In the lonely clay of darkness

A beacon beams no more

With this release,

He now has peace,

His silent sufferings o’er.

But Mum and Dad

In anguish clad,

Loved ones weep and cry,

For their loving friend,

It is the end.

Why? Oh Why? Oh Why?