A Poem in Honor of a Good Man #ShadowshotSunday

His daughter love lilacs so much that she planned her 1995 wedding for when the lilacs were in bloom.

May 10

 Yesterday, I attended a memorial service (via Zoom) for my last living uncle, who passed away earlier this month at the age of 100.

From my yard, May 10

The youngest brother of my father, he was raised by his siblings, including my late father, when his mother died way too young.  He was a scientist and a man of many interests, including poetry.  I remember him reciting poems - long poems, at that.

Today I will honor my late uncle with a poem he used to recite to his children as they grew up in Texas and Iowa:  Some Little Bug by John Leroy Atwell, from 1915.

In these days of indigestion
    It is oftentimes a question
        As to what to eat and what to leave alone;
    For each microbe and bacillus
    Has a different way to kill us,
        And in time they always claim us for their own.
    There are germs of every kind
    In any food that you can find
        In the market or upon the bill of fare.
    Drinking water's just as risky
    As the so-called deadly whiskey,
        And it's often a mistake to breathe the air.

    Some little bug is going to find you some day,
    Some little bug will creep behind you some day,
        Then he'll send for his bug friends
        And all your earthly trouble ends;
    Some little bug is going to find you some day.

    The inviting green cucumber
    Gets most everybody's number,
        While the green corn has a system of its own;
    Though a radish seems nutritious
    Its behaviour is quite vicious,
        And a doctor will be coming to your home.
    Eating lobster cooked or plain
    Is only flirting with ptomaine,
        While an oyster sometimes has a lot to say,
    But the clams we cat in chowder
    Make the angels chant the louder,
        For they know that we'll be with them right away.

    Take a slice of nice fried onion
    And you're fit for Dr. Munyon,
        Apple dumplings kill you quicker than a train.
    Chew a cheesy midnight "rabbit"
    And a grave you'll soon inhabit
        Ah, to eat at all is such a foolish game.
    Eating huckleberry pie
    Is a pleasing way to die,
        While sauerkraut brings on softening of the brain.
    When you eat banana fritters
    Every undertaker titters,
        And the casket makers nearly go insane.

    Some little bug is going to find you some day,
    Some little bug will creep behind you some day,
        With a nervous little quiver
        He'll give cirrhosis of the liver;
    Some little bug is going to find you some day.

    When cold storage vaults I visit
    I can only say what is it
        Makes poor mortals fill their systems with such stuff?
    Now, for breakfast, prunes are dandy
    If a stomach pump is handy
        And your doctor can be found quite soon enough.
    Eat a plate of fine pigs' knuckles
    And the headstone cutter chuckles,
        While the grave digger makes a note upon his cuff.
    Eat that lovely red bologna
    And you'll wear a wooden kimona,
        As your relatives start scrappin 'bout your stuff.

    Some little bug is going to find you some day,
    Some little bug will creep behind you some day,
        Eating juicy sliced pineapple
        Makes the sexton dust the chapel;
    Some little bug is going to find you some day.

    All those crazy foods they mix
    Will float us 'cross the River Styx,
        Or they'll start us climbing up the milky way.
    And the meals we eat in courses
    Mean a hearse and two black horses
        So before a meal some people always pray.
    Luscious grapes breed 'pendicitis,
    And the juice leads to gastritis,
        So there's only death to greet us either way;
    And fried liver's nice, but, mind you,
    Friends will soon ride slow behind you
        And the papers then will have nice things to say.

    Some little bug is going to find you some day,
    Some little bug will creep behind you some day
        Eat some sauce, they call it chili,
        On your breast they'll place a lily;
    Some little bug is going to find you some day.
 

More about my uncle (and my connection with him) in my Music Moves Me post tomorrow.

Joining Lisa at Lisa's Garden Adventure for her #ShadowshotSunday.