My Brother Barry was a joker
With a big infectious grin
Which he never lost in spite
Of any trouble his jokes got him in.
Grandad Barker used pot eggs
To encourage his hens to lay
For he liked a couple of fresh ones
Boiled for his brekkie every day
With Softly and runny yokes
To dip his soldiers in
Heavily buttered bread
Sliced nice and thin.
I'll never forget his reaction
To the unexpected fact
In spite of his hefty whacky
His egg was still in tact.
Grandad wasn't amused
He didn't like his jokes
And he gave Brother Barry
A few leather strap strokes.
Grandad Barker was the patriarch
The ruler of our extended clan
And to interfere with his routine was
To create a very angry man.
Brother Barry the joker reckoned
It was worth the punishment he got
For that day, just for fun, he replaced
Grandad's boiled eggs with ones of pot.
