Guaro and the Three Franks

My father passed away at sixty-six,
And my grandfather at a younger age,
They were both addicted to alcohol,
Now I write their story on my page.
They tell me I was Frank’s first grandson,
But I don’t have any memory of him,
My dad told me he and grandpa bonded,
When my dad started drinking at thirteen.
But I’m talking about the real hard stuff,
Guaro made from distilled sugar cane,
After all they grew it in the old farm,
In the days before the civil war came.
For years my father lied about drinking,
He always tried to hide his addictions,
It cost him his family and his freedom,
That for years it caused a lot of friction.
When my father and I reunited,
Just like his father we too began to bond,
And I found myself unable to hang,
When those old demons had been re-spawned.
Though my drinking wasn’t nearly as bad,
I was scared when dad would say "let’s get more",
As his health began to deteriorate,
Denying him alcohol started a war.
I remember the last argument we had,
Love and loyalty was put to the test,
He ran away, he just couldn’t take it,
Deep down I knew my father was depressed.
And so I decided to stop drinking,
I’d love to see grandchildren when I’m old,
And the day he died I started thinking,
My father taught me to have self-control.