Written by Cyril Coker’s granddaughter Bettrys Wellings.

Ode to Grandad

What a great man at the age of 85
To achieve such great things and still be alive -
To fight for his country, to have a family,
To publish a book, and start another three.

So many things to love about his ways
So many things – how to portray?
He lived the Christian life, as a true believer should
And encouraged others in their walk, as much as he could.

How could you not love the curl in his hair
The big knuckled hands, and how he slouched in his chair.
How could you not love, the pigeon-toed walk
The scuff noises he made, as his thongs hit the chalk.

How could you not laugh at the same jokes every meal
For the way Cyril told them – it was always a funny deal.
How could you not love the hoarding of lots
From buttons to screws, to 1000 milk bottle tops.

How could you not love the ditties and dance songs
And labels on bottles saying “? Gee, It sure pongs!”
How could you not appreciate the crosswords and his persistence,
For the hours he spent pondering over questions of resistance.

How could you not love the innocence at dinner,
Where snoring at the table – he was often the winner.
How could you not chuckle at the dripping of the nose,
Where unnoticed the water would drop t’wards his toes.

How could you not love the long weekly ITMA’s
The cursing of technology, especially the computer.
How could you not join in the viewing of ‘The Bill’
With cup of tea in hand, but no water – at his will.

How could you get annoyed with the Chev’s piercing squeal,
Since Grandad couldn’t hear it – it was not a big deal.
How could we not love the little inventions,
For the bluetacked pyjamas must make a mention.

Surely these behaviours, these traits are the ones we will miss
For times spent with Grandad were always such bliss.
His wittiness, his charm were always a blessing
And each of us here takes a special memory that needs caressing.

So, God’s blessings to you Grandad, our friend and forefather
You will continue to be a part of us, now and ever after
But now you are blessed, as to rest you are lain,
Sweet dreams, my special Grandad, until we meet again.