My Brother Gerry
Whistles blowin'
Trains a comin'
You on that track with
Endless rails
Poundin' the sledge
Drivin' those spikes
Dating redheads
Even the dikes
Recallin that line
Above the toilt seat
Under the T.P
Nose of concrete
Runnin' amuck
Playin' ball spring through fall
Your hobby of wood
Seems to quite thee
Swingin' them clubs
Unhackin' like me
Thanks for the memories
The times we had
Sure glad your my brother
Don't ever be sad
Just one more for the road
Pounding them shots
I'll wash the dishes
You scrub the pots
poem by Matt Mondschein
Added by Poetry Lover
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