WESTON


Frail young lad just like his Pa
Looks just like him says his Ma,

George once stood in a one-quart cup
Now his sons are growing up

Five of them are by his side
Daughters two, one baby died

Always quiet, sometimes hid
Was Weston in that pyramid

Of joyful boys that July day?
Would he rather work than play?

There he was in forty-two
Saw the scars on Oahu

The Philippines his coming saw,
Brought a grass skirt for his Ma

But always did his duty well
From Solomons to Luzon's hell,

I saw right through that crusty guise
Caught the twinkle in your eyes,

Old Jack Frost never got my nose
Or Mother Nature, none of those

You didn't scare me, six years old
I knew you had a heart of gold,

The cat got my tongue or I'd tell the one
Of you in the summer of sixty-one

You went to work, no hesitation
In Grandma's attic, insulation

Needed pouring, you got it done
Dirty job and wasn't fun,

So many now have passed away
Like Arthur, Bertie and Henry May,

Like Vera, Edgar and Bobby too,
Laverne and Wally, and now it's you...

Gone, but not forgotten, never!
Family love will live forever.

by D. Edgar Murray