Grandma Baby (Elisabeth Filda Strydom) Poem by Gert Strydom

Grandma, your dad was a Scotsman and a real gentleman,
your mother an Afrikaner in more than flesh and blood,
you taught me the principles of family,
believed that everyone should help each other,
admonished your children to what is truly right,
and family and clan is more than a surname.
You did speak Afrikaans as just an Afrikaner can,
would resist the English to your marrow bones.
Your English was that of a true Brittan,
drinking tea came at eleven and at four o'clock,
you had the heart of an Afrikaner
and believed God still do turn lives around.
When you died my heart was torn apart,
of you does remain a tranquil soft impression.