In the Doghouse

With all the sorting we did last week, I came across another poem by my grandpa, Grant Stephens. Since it didn't get in to the book with the other poems, I thought I'd just put it up here.

In the Doghouse

Just two more old stogies
Sitting all alone
They have left us in the doghouse
Gnawing at a bone.
We are very short of memory,
For we have lost our job.
That leaves us with only honor
For we can't steal or rob.

They think that we are feeble,
But goodness sakes alive
There is many things worth doing
After becoming sixty-five.
They have taken our initiative
Left no way to advance.
So we sponge upon our children
When we have a chance.

Now they have spoiled our fishing
For they have passed such laws.
We don't know when and what to do
For every where a clause.
We have a little security
But that does not suffice
What we need is more 'acentintave' (incentive?)
And not so much advice.

Now many are left walking
For they have lost their car.
That leaves them very lonely
No matter who they are.
But life should be worth something
If given all a chance
To make this old world better
Would help them to advance.

So let's try and think of something
But sitting on a shelf
And try and think we are worthy
Of shifting for our self.
But time has left us stranded
Where we must sink or float
Until we reach the shores eternal
And then give up the boat.

by H. G. Stephens