James Ernest Ellis

James Ernest Ellis passed away on 25th February 2013. He was 88 years old.  Not a bad innings for someone who had seen his best friends killed on the battlefield in Burma and suspected he might be next.  For a man whose wicked sense of humour frequently landed him in trouble with members of the opposite sex, it is even more impressive.  

If there's one thing you could say for certain about Jim, it's that he walked his own path through life.  Confident, suave and charming, he cut a dashing figure in the Oulton Broad area of Norfolk where he lived for most of his life.  Never afraid to air an opinion, and a teller of incredibly inappropriate stories at family gatherings, his voice was often heard above the crowd. 

I don't think I would dare to walk in his footsteps.  He's an almost impossible man to follow.  He was my grandad and we bury him tomorrow at Carleton Cemetery.  This is the elegy I have written for the service. 

Jim Lad

I

Sunlight spins silken threads round trees

A blackbird’s matins wake the earth

Bright stems of pearls, dawn’s tears, disperse

A great man sleeps, his bones at ease

Big bear whose words dripped honey-charm

Silk tie, cuff-links, bright gleaming shoes

Sleek, Brylcreemed curls, spiced-musk infused

White trilby crown for August’s warmth

II

Jambo Bwana, Jambo Bibi

Young Jim heard those Kenyan lions

Mixed with Ethiopian scions

Lank giraffes and baobab trees

Friendships forged and friendships rendered

Heat of gunfire’s horror branded

Travel as command demanded

Swamp child stranded, Jim Lad tended

III

Back home on Nelson’s Norfolk Broads

Glass landscape nursed Jim’s coastal flock

By line or net, on bridge or dock

A champion catch, the gift of cod

About the town, a man of note

Tall tales from travel told to all

Loud lion’s roar, East England drawl

Wun cap or tay plays Ma’am – unquote

 

A rainbow flame for butterflies

His garden home to duck and rose

Good neighbour, sharing fact and prose

Jim’s travel made him worldly-wise

IV

Sunlight unwraps her fragile threads

Dusk’s murmured lullabies entice

Blackbird’s nocturne paints dark the skies

The traveller makes for his bed

Gin-rummy lover’s hand is played

His deck shuffled and dealt to those

Who wish him long and sweet repose

Our King of Diamonds, gently laid.