As it is Father’s Day on Sunday June 18th we unashamedly re-publish Joan’s poem about her late, great, father Mj. Rodrigues (‘Roddy’) Watler

“Roddy”

Roddy – that’s what they called him
From birth, right to his grave.
He was six foot six inches tall
So big and strong and brave.

He was one of the finest fathers
And he loved us all so much.
He always had time for others
And he had that special touch.

He tickled our toes in the morning
Waking us to a brand new day,
With fruit from his own garden
“Come and get it my darlings,” he’d say.

He was such a good provider,
He always farmed his land.
Our cupboards were never empty
All stocked by his very own hand.

He taught us from early childhood
To respect others above ourselves,
To cherish what God had given us
Our freedom to enjoy our wealth.

And wealth didn’t mean money
For there was little of that.
It was our sunshine, sand and warm blue sea,
All ours to enjoy, and it was totally free.

He swam with us off the iron shore
I tell you, we enjoyed it all so much.
Swimming and diving with our father
In those days we were never lost touch.

“Work hard and plan your day.”
Was his fatherly and friendly advice.
“Hard work never kill nobody
Take a look at me – Inspector Roddy.”

He was serious but also humorous
And he loved to chat awhile
With friends under our plum tree
And a cup of fresh coffee.

By Joan E (Watler) Wilson