It was hard life for the cartoonist,
In life he was a fighter, he fought his way up,
Like all great men he had the stuff to think
And steer a clear path.
During his struggle, his nephew was with him,
The nephew fought with him, learning from the uncle.
When it was time for the cartoonist to hang boots,
By the his son had grown big, but not as well indoctrinated as his cousin,
The old man had wee suspicion the nephew will upstage,
He brought his son to take over the mantle.
This caused heart burn,
And the uncle and nephew parted ways.
When the old man dies, as we all must,
The nephew attended the funeral, as all nephews must.
The cousins, never consoled each other in the public eye,
Or in private either, such was the animosity.
Just as the uncle was about to be taken up the pyre,
The nephew put his hand on the uncle’s head,
And caressed a couple of times,
And then withdrew, sobs overpowered his composure
His hands hurried to cover the face
So that no one caught him sobbing,
Not because he loved his uncle less,
His uncle had taught him never to let his weakness be known.