Tonight is the bust up party for my summer trap league. I will be leaving soon as it starts around 5:00. I will meet my partner Rosalie then as she is done with work about then. That is always fun. A chance to eat and visit and see who wins the big prizes. I did better than I ever have but I still have a LONG way to go. I will persist. Someday I will be good at something that requires dexterity.

I told you that I would publish, on this site, the poem I wrote about my Grandpa Deeley. I wanted to wait until after Irish Fest because I did have it in the contest and I am a stickler for honesty. I had told them that it had not been published and wanted to be true. Obviously I did not win the prize so so here it is.

GRANDPA'S WALLET


An Irishman who never set foot on Irish soil.
He was born - in London - on Christmas Day,
To emigrating parents – the oldest boy.
They came to America when he was eleven months old.

He was born - in London - on Christmas Day.
No one EVER dared call him British more than once.
They came to America when he was eleven months old.
His father worked the mills throughout New England.

No one EVER dared call him British more than once.
He started work when he was only eleven.
His father worked the mills throughout New England.
He was boss carder at age 16.

He started to work when he was only eleven.
He came to Wisconsin in 1889 to work.
He was boss carder at age 16.
I think leprechauns look like my Grandpa Deeley.

He came to Wisconsin in 1889 to work.
My Dad looked like Grandpa.
I think leprechauns look like my Grandpa Deeley.
He married twice and had six children.

My Dad looked like Grandpa.
I took Grandpa's wallet to Ireland.
He married twice and had six children.
He was an Irishman who never set foot on Irish soil.



HOPE YOU ENJOY IT.

Love Mary