HMS Glory

When uncle Frank came back,  
he said he’d been held  
behind bamboo walls  
while his body ate itself.  
Edna gave him rice pudding,  
He nearly killed her.  

He gave away a bayonet  
and a black-sashed HMS hat,  
things like that scared him.  
I hung them on my wall,  
but they still shook  
when a door slammed.  
 
The chip shop round the corner  
changed hands to Mr Yip,  
so future fish suppers  
were caught in the Volvo.  
Edna complained  
it was too far to drive,  
so she cooked.  
 
Frank liked a pint  
on a Friday night with the lads  
at the Labour club,  
mellowed by sitting too long  
in his chair, broken by  
heart and panic attacks.  
 
I was his taxi collecting at ten  
so Edna could relax and meet  
with her friends.  
Then belching bitter,  
he asked me to stop and went  
inside Mr Yips for a nice piece of Cod.  
 
He said he’d forgot why he was so angry  
and that Mr Yip seemed a very nice man,  
too young to even remember the war,  
I called him a pillock and said “that’s his son”  
and that was it, just like that,  
Frank asked me could he have his hat back  
and told me all about the black sash.