no request for an aide is forthcoming

for grit is his nickname, John his given

to cope and do as must be, he will abide

pride is a marker less valued than result

he'll march to his own tune, no follower

on the edge and verge of humanity's need

indeed there's no hint of personal greed

self-reliance a trait he learned from life's gate

a hand or two in the soil he had as a lad

no airs, pretenses he's left them at the fence

ironclad contracts at the shake of a hand

deft not daft with verbiage and expression

need not look for predilection he's analytical

yarns and bard's play his mainstay

when he comes it's to spread joy and seed

entertainment that bears a creative hand

peruse what his will scribes and linger to savor

'til you're sated with elegant lyrics and verse

he's that Flanagan man, John, you understand