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My Grandmother Tina

I was born under a bad sign
It had three letters missing
It buzzed noisily and kept
babys and paying tenants awake
my parents were poor irish folk
and I was wrapped in swaddling
diapered in newspaper
they would leave me with
handy relatives or my alcoholic grandmother
she would sing bawdy songs ….I had me a pinto
pony once a beautiful sight was he ….I left him with
a pretty little lass for to keep him company……
and then she’d say “stop playing with your tallywhacker”
when I could no more than talk and barely walk
I’d carry home three quarts of Burgie and a pack of Camels
In a carpet bag with wooden handles, bought with a fin pinned to my shirt
and a note to the liquor clerk
she told me she’d paddle my behind if I broke one of her quarts.
…..sometimes she’d give me a nickel to buy an Abazaba

poem by George Murdock
Added by Poetry Lover
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