Arthur Neil Richards


born December 15, 1925

Died Mar 2, 2002

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Arthur Neil Richards Jr.


This is a poem my brother wrote for our Uncle Art After he had died

Art Richards Brand of Heaven

"Getting old Ain't for sissies". and "never get as old as me"; These are things I tried to teach you, Before the living kicked me free. I made my way to heaven; they knew i wasn't there to pray; Searched for "Greenwell, Murph, or Porter", or anyone that could say. Trying to confirm the rumor that has all the sportsmen in a fuss; Woulda been there quicker, but i wouldn't take a bus. "Murph" couldn't call me, woulda told me if he could Can't believe the fishing coulda ever been this good. A bite with every cast, not a thing to snag your line; Rainbow trout for smoking, and the bass filets---just fine. And the hunting is just awesome, no need to put in for a tag; A trophy without walking, and you never have to drag. The ducks just seem to flock in, I don't even have to call; And Chukar running everywhere, old "Bomber" dog just has a ball. The bowling is the greatest, perfect oil every time; put the ball on the first board never have to hug the line. No sandbaggers on the golf course, and we play three hour rounds; All the greens roll true; ain't no hazards, traps, or out of bounds. This heaven thing could be the fancy, might even make us cheer, if we can only find a pool hall where a guy can have a beer. A place for puffing on my pipe, while i sip a glass of wine; And wait for a batch of bread to raise, things never looked so fine. I know you might be missing me, I asked you not to grieve, if these pleasures will continue, I'll lie, and say that "I believe"

© Neil Harris Sept 23 2002

©..... W. Edwin Harris