THE OLD CODGERSBy John McMenamin Two men sit in bathrobes
Outside the old folks home
No one ever visits them
They sit there – all alone. They’re tucked up in a blanket
Though the day is warm and hot
And just in case of accidents
They have a little pot. The years have not been kind to them
They’re old and stooped with age
The book of life will soon be shut
They’re nearing the last page. They sit there in the twilight zone
Their minds have long since gone
Two relics of a bygone age
It’s Gerry – and wee Sean. Are these the men we knew so well?
Sitting dribbling on their bibs
Where now the cheerful banter
Where now, the quick as libs? Long ago, way back in time
These men were shining stars
But now they need assistance
To climb into their drawers. Abandoned by their family’s
When it got too hard to cope
Feeble and incontinent
No strength, no sense, no hope. Now and then a brain cell
Gives off a feeble glow
And withered lips will mutter
Of days so long ago. “I remember Sean” gasps Gerry
The brain cell gives a splutter
The tapes erased, the memory’s gone
The lips do not but mutter. A nurse whips off their blankets
Wee Sean, looks on askance
A small smile flits across his face
As she checks her rubber pants. The nurse moves on to Gerry
Who’s staring into space
She checks his pants efficiently
And his heart begins to race. The wind blows through their greying locks
The day moves slowly on
It’s just another lonely day
For Gerry and - Wee Sean. Then suddenly, a flash of light
Illuminates their brain
Memories flood back like a stream
Their eyes are full of pain. “What became of Daniell” said Wee Sean
“He came from Donegall
I used to like him, you know
He had a funny drawl”. “They canonised him” Gerry said
“Put a halo round his head
But the funny thing is” Gerry said
-“He wasn’t even dead.” “Jordie Tuft” said Gerry
“Used to phone me every week
But sometimes cooking sherry
Made it hard to speak.” “I likes the Tufter” said wee Sean
“I knew the Tufter well
He used to come to Single’s Night’s
And fight and drink like hell”. “The waistcoat man” said Gerry
“I think his name was Pat
He could laugh like a hyena
And they say he was wild fat”. “Where did Michael go?” said little Sean
And he gave a mournful sigh
“He brightened up my day, you know
When he gave a cheerful – Hi.
“He was taken up by aliens”
Said Gerry, to wee Sean
“You won’t see Michael anymore
The little sailors gone”.
“Ah, the letters and the E-Mails
That I used to get each day
And the last I heard Bon Jovi
Had broke and ran away”. Wee Sean got slowly to his feet
And took up a fighting stance
“I’ve got a bone to pick with you” he said
Hitching up his rubber pants. “You didn’t treat me well, you know
When I was on your show
You treated me like something
That you’d find inside a po”. “It was just an act” said Gerry
“To lead the punters on
Now watch your old angina
And please sit down wee Sean.” Wee Sean, fell back into his chair
And a tear came to his eye
“Geraldine never visits me
And I really don’t know why.” She works for Stephen Nolan now
She doesn’t mind his size
She cleans his awards with brasso
And runs and gets him pies. “What became of Jordie” said wee Sean
“Sometimes he could be rude”
“He’s in the priory clinic” Gerry said
“He’s addicted to – Jeyes Fluid.” The two sat close together
Staring at the sun
Wee Sean, gave a giggle
“There’s a man for you- on one”. By now, their mind had wandered
They didn’t know their name
Two burnt out stars, in their twilight years
It’s sad and it’s a shame.
Away off in the distance
A small bird sang so sweet
They sit there wearing dressing gowns.
--Carpet slippers on their feet.
The wind blows cold, on young and old
And twinkling stars appear
They huddle close and give a sigh
And shed a little tear. Two nurses wheel the relics in
Without a kindly glance
To spend another sleepless night
In a pair of, rubber pants. Don’t worry folks, it’s just a poem
Don’t waste no tears or prayers
With the money them two are raking in
They’ll end up as-millionaires. THE END. “Sean, give us a lick of your auld pot noodle”
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