Mum And Dad Poem by George BernardBloodyShaw

I remember Mum
and him,
that's Dad
who worked,
never shirked.
Me Mum and Dad
they never did
shirk,
just work
with vigour
and vim.
That's just
one more thing.
The all day wash
in the boiler
then a scrub.
Those days,
no rush
with that brush
with vim and vigour.
Moon landing?
That's nowt.
THAT step
for mankind,
my Mum and Dad
were kind.
Her step she painted.
My childhood not tainted.
Dad always there, too.
Dad got old
but more to unfold.
The music of life
to be told.
What I got
it appears as a tot
Mum,
Dad,
music,
a language
in which to languish,
envelope oneself
in international language
of music and love,
that is what
I got
from Dad and Mum.
I will never
forget,
yet,
as I still go forward
I know what I go toward,
built on that pad
of Mum and Dad.