My father had many traits,
Some good, a few bad.
He was, though, a self-crowned funny man,
That one trait could go either way.

He would call random female friends 
Disguising his voice to perform a pregnancy survey
Then one regrettable day,
The voice admitted to being with child.

My Mother would redden with shame,
As his fable of their honeymoon
Would spew forth.
She refused to use the outhouse and pooped in a sock.

For grins, he would bet you,
A dollar if you dare,
That you couldn’t say “I slipped a sheep and sheep slipped me,”
Three times as fast as possible.

“I SHIT a sheep and a sheep SHIT me.”
“I SHIT a sheep and a sheep SHIT me.”
“I SHIT a sheep and a sheep SHIT me.”

Funny Dad!

I miss you!

November 2025