Well, you see— my dad's dad, Howard, was a heavy-drinking man
He soddenly ran his way straight through his allotted timed sand
A stupor and a rowed tree cut short his projected lifespan
My dad was just twelve when the bottle was bequeathed to his hand

Gran moved on too quickly— she had five kids— she had to rebrand
Grandpa Bob— he always walked straight— he piloted...