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(25th March 1943)

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Dem Bones!

My Husband's Grandmother,
who had reached the grand old age of 98 years,
died one 23rd of December,
and as her funeral couldn't be organised
until the 6th of January, the following year,
her Son asked the Funeral Director,
to explain what was happening to his Mother
over the Christmas period.

The Funeral Director in his severe black suit,
with a face even more severe,
placed a hand on the Son's shoulder, and said,
'Don't you worry, Mr Taylor,
we have a Skeleton Staff in over Christmas'.

This is a true story, but we found it to be so hilarious.

Submitted: Tuesday, July 25, 2006
Edited: Saturday, April 02, 2011


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Comments about this poem (**No Regard by Ernestine Northover )

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  • Paul Henry Dallaire (5/21/2009 9:48:00 AM)

    Haha.hehe. As a funeral Director I can relate to that one.

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  • Paul Henry Dallaire (1/15/2009 10:09:00 AM)

    As a Funeral Director myself a little humour never hurts at the right place. Ha ha.

  • Andrew Blakemore (3/31/2008 3:00:00 PM)

    Very funny thanks for sharing. Might get my mom to include this in our church newsletter if you don't mind. Thanks, Andrew x

  • Brian Dorn (8/8/2006 2:34:00 PM)

    Ernestine, it sounds like 'The Nightmare Before Christmas.' Good write, perfect title! !
    Brian

  • The Right Reverend Wessul (8/6/2006 4:39:00 PM)

    Very enjoyable!
    Thank you for the tip. Also great job on descibing the incident effectivly in your poem. Much appreciated.
    TRRW

  • Duncan Wyllie (7/26/2006 5:13:00 PM)

    Yet another reason to love you Ernestine, this is so accidental, many of us have put our foot in it, seldom though our whole body
    Laughing all the way! !
    Love duncan X

  • Emma Johnson (7/26/2006 5:04:00 AM)

    I could not help laughing, Ernestine. It is grand the way you poetically report things. Love, Susie xxx.

  • Uriah Hamilton (7/25/2006 5:45:00 PM)

    That is funny! ! ! but I still feel sad.

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