THE OLD MAN NEXT DOOR

They will miss the afternoon sessions,
From which could be taken, a few lessons.
Skeeter, there for the afternoon "highball,"
Jim, the mailman, hardly there anything at all.

After a few jokes had been told
And complaints of how it is hell to grow old.
Goodbyes would be said with a grin,
Waiting for tomorrow, to do it again.

He was a lonely man, you could tell,
Especially when he would wander over for a spell.
Good neighbors, good friends he wanted near,
He thinks he was glad to have them here.

He knows they were happy to have had,
A neighbor that was good, not bad.
That old man next door was not a dud,
Marcus was his name, hell of a "Budd."