Ode to My Brother’s Retirement


Bob, your job is done.

Time to relax, have some fun!


Try to be young, young at heart.

Try to forget: you are an old fart.


The bills will be due.

The tax man is lurking.

No worries–Marybeth is still working


Why work? What’s the point?

If it was me, I would smoke a joint.


Try to relax!

You and wifey can talk…

until she says, Bob please take a long walk.


Don’t get old, heavens above!

Stay the same:

The man we all love.


Camp Granada


Hello mother, hello father,

I’m writing you from, Camp Granada.

The girls are cute here.

I like the food here.

I am happy, my mood is good here.

Hello mother, Hello father,

I”m missing you from, Camp Granada

I can swim here

I can grin here.

If they ask me to go home I’ll tell them no, dear.

Sunday Dinner


When I’m the chef at Sunday dinner,
There’s not a chance of growing thinner.
White wine, small talk and cut the cheese,
Dip and crackers, meant to please.
A seafood starter, clams in butter,
“Good God that’s good!” I heard one utter.
Country ham sliced paper thin,
Scalloped potatoes so good they’ve sinned,
Asparagus with hollandaise,
Fold your hands, give God the praise,

But it was I who cooked this meal,
Shouldn’t I be the bigger deal?