In turn we share the bath on Friday night.
Eileen is first, as is her girly right.
Then snug and towel-wrapped we never tire
of watching fairies dancing in the fire.
[galvanised steel bath filled with hot water from the copper]

It’s “Shuttleworth for ever!” in the sports
and strong green knickers serve as female shorts.
With grace and strength our Eileen outleaps all –
announced as long-jump champion in the Hall.
[Don’t like to boast but I was third in the obstacle race.]

[dodgy metre coming up]

At college Eileen learns to teach and takes biology.
“The birds and bees?” you ask. No, cowpat ecology!
A strapping Yorkshire lad wins heart and hand
(his place of birth he cannot help; we understand!)

Now teacher, mum and helpmeet to her spouse
she still finds time to decorate the house
with floral garlands made with craft and style:
some flowers dried, some fresh, combined with guile;

and contributes to all the local shows
and keeps the WI upon its toes
and acts upon the stage in local plays
and entertains her guests with winning ways.

Her Yuletide gift: a reused card and verse;
to tell of which this writer could do worse
than pack in all the news of family, friends and outings in that time
but make sure it’s a poem by ending with a rhyme.

At last, when Time had had its way, Eileen
turned Genesis around, by which I mean
that in the very ending was the Word:
the Codeword puzzles Allan found absurd.

It’s plain to see, hers was a well-spent life –
as teacher, mother, friend and loyal wife.
Her memory will stay with us for ay.
We think of her most fondly on this day.