A husband, a dad, a grandad,a friend An uncle to many, loved without end A man of great humour, laughs shared with love Tam to so many but to Irene just Tom. A soldier and sparky, armed to the teeth A bus or a tank he was oft found beneath Not with rifle or pistol as weapon of choice But a screwdriver or spanner held like a vice. An advisor to many who drank in the Bucc I'm sure all aware the extent of their luck. A cold pint of lager with a head frothing nice An occasional nip with lemonade and ice A man who'll be missed of that there's no fear. I know in our hearts he'll ever feel near.