Bettie MacIntyre


A man of great height, a gentleman,

caressed a broken little soul, with his big ole hands.

Embracing her with his arms, he did hold.

Most of all, she loved his smile.

To your knee, she only reached,

so on your foot, she sat and swayed.

The Bible you would read and preach,

rocking in your chair at the end of the day.

Most of all, she loved your smile.

Gramp sees how much she has grown,

you picked her up and looked her in the eye.

So blue, they match the azure sky.

Oh gramp, most of all, she’ll miss your smile.

Time to go, time to sleep,

no more days, no more fields to reap.

She’ll see you again in the ’morrow,

where the pain is nil, and lush fields are laurel.

Most of all, she’ll miss your smile.

She tries not to cry and not to weep.

Gram said, ‘He is not gone but asleep.’

He is in a heavenly resting place,

with our Lord, and in His Grace.

Most of all, God will love your smile!

Granddaughter, Little Blue eyes…

Gramp & Gram