She was a right gal our Brenda,
Liked a drink or two mind.
The Liberal club, her second home,
Packet of fags and a pint of mild.
She could sup some ale you know!
Leave any bloke standing cold.
Had to tell her to slow it down,
But Bren, she wouldn’t be told.
Been married 3 times she had,
With over 12 kids to show.
And 38 grandkids followed,
She’s been round the block you know!
Lot of family round her,
But none of ‘em cared a toss.
Just took her for what they could get,
But Bren, she just laughed it off.
Her man friend Toby loved her,
Bought her a diamond ring.
She took it and laughed to her mates,
“I ‘aint gettin’ married so sing!”
She’d do owt for you our Bren,
Any possible mortal thing.
Get you presents and little tokens
Treat you like Queen or a King.
One Sunday morning at club,
Our Brenda, she wasn’t there.
Normally first to arrive,
Her bag on her usual chair.
She’d been on a trip day before,
And came back early by car.
“Get a drink in, she’ll soon be here”
But her pint sat still at the bar.
Her Toby went to her flat,
And a crowd did gather near.
He knocked and banged at the doors,
But he couldn’t make Brenda hear.
Cops came to kick in the door,
and went through to Brenda’s bed.
There she lay cold and alone.
Our Brenda, finished and dead.
So many pals at her funeral,
Only 2 of her family came.
Don’t know what killed our Brenda,
But think it’s the drink all the same.
The life and soul you were gal,
And done at 67 years.
We still raise your pint on Sundays,
Clink glasses, to Brenda, say cheers!
A true story told to me by Brendas friend this morning.