Or poem beginning with a line by John Hartley Williams
In those days I didn't go to weddings.
All that noisy drinking got me down
and chicken and ham with mushy vegetables
was best eaten once a year at most.
I hated the homegrown country music
that dragged everyone to the dance floor,
and even more the yelps and squeals
when the bride was twirled by the groom,
but worst of all was the leering question
when was it going to be my turn?
No one asked that at the funerals
I took to hunting out and attending,
and the black jacket and jeans I wore
got nods of approval and sad smiles.
I loved the stately walking rhythms
as we shuffled after the coffins,
inside of which were mostly strangers,
and I always managed a graveside tear
which earned me a beer and a sandwich
in the hotel later, where no one danced.