Albert
Albert done croaked it.
He electrocuted himself
'cos his legs had given way
And he couldn't walk the hill
To his council flat no more.
He didn't want to go into St. Martin's.
He was 83.
He took his shoes and socks off
And put his bare feet
In a basin of cold water.
Then he wrapped the bare electric wire
Around his waist
And switched the electric on.
He had a lot of guts.
He was Company Sergeant Major
To the Somersets
In the War and Greece.
Later he ran the Territorial Army in Bath.
He was a right bastard.
Wouldn't stand for no bullshitting.
He loved Greece,
The Changing of The Guard
At the Royal Palace,
He drank retsina till his dying day.
He walked miles around Bath,
and in the surrounding countryside,
To his work in engineering and to the pubs.
He would drink his beer and barley wine.
At home he brewed his own ale and plonk.
His wife died over thirty years ago in childbirth
And he never looked at another woman.
He made chutney for himself.
He made marmalade and jam.
His tapestry is famous.
His Mantovani LP collection was exhaustive.
He played music all the time.
He saw the sexshow in Tangiers in '38.
He wore his bunnet
And always had a twinkle in his eye.
He was Albert.
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