With their hair all awry
When they sneak out to spy
On the good- hearted gent next door
And they slip on the rug
Dropping their mug
Busting their butt on the floor
As they sit crocheting a doily
Expounding on manners to a tart
Next thing you know they glance around coyly
As they sneeze to muffle a fart
From her funny little hat
Which on the buffet always sat
To her toaster that worked only on high
To her nic-nacs and threads
And squeaky old bed
Where grandkids were put down to cry
From her worn flannel nightie
To her fluffy pink slippers
To whenst she tripped over the cat
To her home made soup
She claimed cured croup
And she said with conviction “that’s that”
To her flowery perfume
That could clear any room
To her wig that was tinted light blue
And whenst she gave you the look
So stern that you shook
You knew why ole grampa was true
From the marks on the wall
Where the children grew tall
To the joy she brought just with a wink
To the fetish she had
That all dogs smelled bad
But her cat could crap in the sink
From her flowery print dress
To her runny nose I guess
To her bandana she fastened with a pin
She’s never forsaken
And never mistaken
Thank God she’s one of our kin
