Weep No More for Uncle Albert

Weep no more for Uncle Albert,

Somewhere in the Necronet.

Out here all his fond relations

Divvy up what they can get.

To young Tim I leave my motor,

Toby gets my scarf,

Tom Boy, you can have my muffler,

And my book of Garth.

Not a chair left there to sit on,

Not a sofa you can get on,

Picture patches on the wall,

Rolled-up lino in the hall,

Hinges taken from the butt,

Turfs are raised and flowers cut.

And Auntie looks a little queer,

She comes up sixty-five this year.

But weep no more for Uncle Albert,

He's above it now.


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