JEFF WHEELDON

Published on 21/10/2020

JEFF WHEELDON 10/12/1943 – 16/10/2020 Poem about Jeff My love is like a Viking god. He laughs at cold, he clangs the nail, His hammer crashes on its head He always hits it, without fail. He chops the logs with flying axe, The windy drizzle is his brother, His gardening jumper’s full of holes But yet he scorns to wear another. He strides afar upon the hills, (His boots are big, his steps are true) He knows the way tho’ he be lost His Viking eye will see him through. My love is like a Viking god, His hair is red, his strength is sure He stokes the fire and blasts the flames Though he be Jeff, I call him Thor. Buried at Seaton Cemetery with – Swiss Army knife Holey green jumper Fishing hat

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