Eugene (Smitty) Schmidt
1912 -- 2007
Our shipmate has gone sailing on calmer seas.
We'll miss you Smitty
Linda (Smitty's daughter)
He writes the rhymes that we all enjoy,
The time has come for an atta boy.
He rarely complains, hugs and smiles for all,
He rocks out at weddings, the life of the ball.
He claims to love the Mountaineers,
But when they mess up, cover your ears!
The Steelers, the Lakers, the Red Sox are tops,
Even with them, he can get pretty hot!
None of his teams have a pass defense,
Wonder why the coach doesn't have his good sense?
He married Margaret fifty nine years ago,
When the store ads come out, its go, go, go.
Back and forth, they buy and return,
One of these days, ther're going to get burned.
Some days I wonder if the cops are going to call,
Catching him in Pennys, baring it all!
Kind words for all, he is a delight,
Don't get me wrong, he won't pass up a good fight!
He may in years, be ninety three,
But on many a day, he works harder than me.
A better Dad would be hard to find,
You might even say, He's one of a kind.
Linda with Marge and Smitty