There was a mean old lady.
I thought she was, because
she yelled at all the children
and said "Cut out that noise!"
And we would always run away
and say "You mean old thing."
But when I told my mom, she said,
"That's poor old Mrs. King."
"She's sad because her husband died.
Then her two children, too.
And she has lots of aches and pains
like many old folks do."
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The next day, I said "Mrs. King,
my mom says she knows you."
And when I told her who I was.
She said "How do you do?"
Her face lit up like sunshine.
It was a sight to see.
'Cause she was only lonely,
and now she's friends with me.
Copyright © 2000, David Austin
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