Poetry

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I would like to say that this poem is about a real person. That person is my deceased grandfather, whose real name was Isaac. He’s gone home to be with Jesus now.
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When I was a child around about ten,
There was a man we called Uncle Ben.
His clothes were shabby and he wore a black hat,
And when he stood, he was bent in the back.

He lived in a shack, it needed repair,
The roof had a leak, but he didn’t care.
We’d visit after church on a Sunday,
My daddy and mama, and my sister and me.

We’d sit on the porch in the summertime,
Swatting flies and bugs that were a flying.
He’d take out his pouch and roll a cigarette,
He was the greatest man I ever met.

He’d make us all laugh with one of his jokes,
And say, “I’m so glad to see you folks.”
My sister and me, we’d say with a grin,
“Oh please Uncle Ben, will you tell it again?”

We’d sit by the fire in the wintertime,
One side cold, the other side a frying.
It really didn’t bother him at all,
He beat anything I ever saw.

He took an old knife and he whittled a cane,
He said, “I can’t hardly walk, my legs a going lame.”
It delighted this child of around about ten,
To me there was nobody like Uncle Ben.

Now things have changed, the old man is gone,
The shack fell down he used to call home.
Jesus had called, to heaven he went,
Childhood memories, I’ll never forget.

We’ll meet again soon; time is drawing neigh,
For Jesus to split the eastern sky.
United with loved one’s and old friends,
Along with the man we called Uncle Ben.


Plain As Day Ministries

Shirley Williams
April 27, 1982

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