The Butcher & His Bride

Loaded in a
Country Squire,
four kids with
their pants on fire,
always ready
for the ride
to the butcher
and his bride

He came swinging
golden gloves,
fists ferocious
as his love;
she came with
her family
through Russia out
of Germany

Kept a little
mercantile
with the grocery
tabs on file;
settled up
the ones could pay,
never turned
a need away

Stout as weissbier
in a stein,
laughter rolling
like the Rhine,
ornery streak
a mile wide
in the butcher
and his bride

He could yodel
golden throat,
drove a Buick
like a boat;
she could take
a china plate,
paint a garden
while you wait

He made sausages
from scratch,
She made dumplings
from a patch
of blueberries
in the yard,
honest work
was never hard

He carved out
a noble life
with his cleaver
and his wife;
taking every
step in stride
just a butcher
and his bride

Never had
a moment’s doubt
what their time
was all about;
family bible
and three boys,
sixty years
of simple joys

She flew from
his arms one night
one more year
and he took flight
hymnal open
by the phone
to You’ll Never
Walk Alone

Grieving in
the loss of ours
laughter echoed
through the stars
and we smiled
as we cried
for the butcher
and his bride

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