Once upon a long time ago
in a country cottage there lived
a grandmama and her suprise gift
from her dead daughter's unknown beau
an unruly and awkward child
coltish, doltish, a dreamer yet,
wouldn't learn her letters, made granny fret
with troubling traits, like running wild.
Now, granny had a little job
working from home, with pen in fist,
writing children's rhymes with her nimble fist
one hundred lines equalled, just ten bob,
and started work on the stroke of five
unaware of that silly kid
tearing pages from her books, she did!
and granny wondered, what the, strife?
Well, the walloping of that silly lass
took quite a while but changed her tune
and after a day and night 'lone in her room
came down contrite and cried, alack alas,
granny took it on to teach her her letters
and the magic of the written word
and by force of words taught that flighty bird
to fly and not be rude, to her betters
Granny kept on writing all the way through
she reached the age of one hundred and one
and that lass produced a grand fine son †
and granny lived, watched, until he grew.
See, Nan, your pen, long since found
your books, bound, repaired, from your files
your pen writes now, for older juveniles,
in the silence, of the deep, underground.
Written by Insiderew
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