I normally enclose a poem to my dad on special occasions, but just before his last birthday a sickness bug crept up on me, and I had to rush to get his card in the post, poemless!
So here, better late than never, is a poem dedicated to my dear old dad. I hope it encapsulates all that is best about him, caricatures it in an amusing way, and hope he (and you) enjoy it (and forgive me!):
If your pub ever runs dry
And teetotalism is your foe,
Look up to the sky:
You might see Super-Joe.
He boycotts (expensive) shops,
Saving pennies is no game!
He's no dandy and no fop:
Super-Joe is his name.
Armchair expert par excellence
No ref or player can escape,
For none match his eminence -
When Super-Joe wears his cape.
He swoops down on wastrels,
Like vengeance from the sky,
Like a mustachioed super kestrel,
Yes Super-Joe is nigh.
No alcohol-free beer please!
You will absolutely offend,
The numero uno big cheese:
Super-Joe, the good guys' best friend.
Like a Western hero of yore,
He's rode right into view,
His powers you can't ignore:
Super-Joe, his cause is true.
Sponsored by Brains Beer,
He's Cardiff to the core!
Everyone starts to cheer:
Super-Joe knows the score.
The Cons Club and St Peters
Are his (semi) secret lairs
Like an extra from The Sweeney
Super-Joe has true flair.
So give a cheer dear reader
His heroism is no game
He is our one true leader
And Super-Joe is his name.
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