His friends called him Mr Kwekwe
That dry hot town in the Midlands.
He was a very generous man.
No one went thirsty when he was present
Even though the bar did not belong to him.
He would be offended indeed.
If you refused the drink he offered you.
He always had money in his pocket
But none in his bank account.

When friends went to visit their folks,
He would be visiting the pubs,
Drinking, laughing and living his life
Though his widowed mother
Never gave up hope
That one day he would come home.

He eventually did:
In a coffin
Bought by his drinking friends
Who used to drink from his pockets.
They had to place it under a solitary tree.
His mother’s doorway was not big enough
To accommodate the rich coffin.
His friends buried him in a hurry
And drove back to town shaking their heads.
There was no drink at the funeral!