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A pretty good cook who knew his way around the Escoffier classics,

But wasn’t shy about using Velveeta and loved his Tex-Mex, and lived for barbecue.

A man equally at home with Arthurian Legends and tales of Outlaws

Who was as comfortable rattling off deeds of Sir Tristan and Sir Lancelot,

As he was the deeds of Jesse James, or Billy The Kid,

and saw no contradiction, or if he did, didn’t seem to mind much about it.

A man who couldn’t sleep without white noise, but snored like a steam shovel,

A man who loved the Gospels,

But hated rules,

Who never said no to a second helping, or a second round.

A sinner who never went in much for Church,

but loved the old hymns.

A man who took himself too seriously most of time,

but wasn’t too proud to laugh like a donkey,

and mostly at himself.

Categories: Poetry
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