Ode to my Pop

well, it's actually a Robert Burns poem, but my grandfather died today and I think this poem sums up it all:

An honest man here lies at rest
As e'er God with his image blest;
The friend of man, the friend of truth,
The friend of age, and guide of youth:
Few hearts like his, with virtue warm'd,
Few heads with knowledge so informed:
If there's another world, he lives in bliss;
If there is none, he made the best of this.

There must be another pink pony up there somewhere, I hope he has his mints with him....