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Church Lady Cat was a formidable, skinny, ugly wrinkly old crazy thing.
Never showed a smile, and certainly did not cheerfully hymn-sing.
We saw her at church, and knew she would come and get the money.
No man in town had ever called this old prissy baby or honey.

Blue eyed hag had a meanness that only arrives in the lap of skinny.
So homely, many of us made jokes that she could probably whinny.
She wore a padded bar under her lacy blouse and I pointed it out.
Brother let out a not-for-church stupid horrific dumb brother shout.

Mother gave us both a mean unmotherly look that meant “now be nice!”
In the sixties, she did not have to give us that look more than twice!
Church Lady Cat’s clothes were made of drapery material I swear.
Doubt she had anything but lead in her undersized kitty underwear.

Wore a purple hat with the cluster of marshmallow baubles of pink.
She was a blue eyed woman, who never walked with a slink.
She had dainty ivory gloves that covered most of her skin.
If they had covered her scrawny face, it would have been more of a win.

I thought she was the weirdest craziest person at church for sure.
Then I got a job at the grocery store, and met her other side, demure.
She was helpful and kind, and made me feel at home, became a friend.
Now I get in fights daily to defend her. Yes, sir. I will fight you to the end!

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