My Deadbeat Uncle

My Deadbeat Uncle
By Mark Spencer

I have a deadbeat uncle
Who never comes to call.
He writes asking for money,
But I don't see him at all.

There aren't any photographs,
Of me sitting on his knee.
I don't see him in old portraits,
Of our friends and family.

He just writes me once a year,
Making his demands.
It's this kind of extortion
That my uncle understands.

He's never done a thing for me
To earn what he receives.
I'm blessed that he's my uncle,
At least, so he believes.

He never calls on my birthday,
Or sends a Christmas card.
I spend Thanksgiving without him,
He shows me no regard.

When I was in the hospital,
He didn't even call.
And when I nearly lost my home
He wouldn't help at all.

Yes he's my deadbeat uncle,
Though I think that's just a scam.
For nowhere on my family tree,
Is there an Uncle Sam.

End.