Grandma was always fussin',
About the uncles smokin' and cussin',
On the porch! The weather no blessin',
With her, no messin'!
For a kid, what allure,
Just weak and impure.
Recalled like craquelure,
Lifetime imprint I'm sure.
A habit acquired at an early age,
With young friends, the rage,
Not understanding, posing as sage,
Life progressed, turning that page.
Use grew like metastasis,
But only for emphasis.
In situations bordering osteoclasis,
Brought on by hammering thumbnails,
Cutting-off finger tips,
And busting knuckles.
A graduate course with hair still wavy,
Compliments of Uncle Sam's Navy,
While learning the lore of Jones, Davy,
We learned to say "Pass the f___in' gravy."
