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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required There was an old lady, a frumpy old bag who people called horrid, a witch and a hag And 'though she was ugly and danced 'mid moonbeams all was not quite as it might've then seemed Old-fashioned black clothing made her look quite strange townies deemed her morbid- “dangerous, deranged” But she wore these odd rags, so dismal, dark, drear for fashion mags advised it'd reduce her rear! Oft they came a-calling, rummaging her rooms for any hint of witchcraft- talismans or brooms Although she was crabby, her manner quite brisk all they ever found was a dustpan and whisk They said she served odd brews, deathly drinks, all vile murky, smelly, poisonous- bitter taste like bile... She poured the nasty stuff, from an earthen jug but was that vegan creamer in their coffee mugs? After midnight dancing, bonfire spellbound- they said she stirred old ghosts from within the ground Also that she chanted 'incantations' foul... ”tuck yourselves in tight, dears- for she likes to prowl!” On full moons it was said, she'd be wont to cook recipes in cauldrons, from an ancient book But was that pungent smell medicine from herbs? (for lunar cycles make health tonics superb) They willfully mistook her 'odes' poetic called for pitchforks over contrived cosmetics... All those potent mixtures, odorous “potions” mere homemade wrinkle creams and beauty lotions ...Couldn't stand her yard-work- never a shovel wild weeds blooming around her wretched hovel... Sprayed poisons to protect their 'pure' precious lawns and told their children she “was the devil's spawn” 'Til one day a crisis showed her intention for they'd have died without her intervention Desperate, they drank up, the herbs she'd tended as she cared for them 'til they were all mended You might think this illness might've changed their minds- but no sooner well they showed her their behinds! They gave her a small shop, place to “sell her wares” so they could gather, gawk- pierce her with their stares Instead of gratitude for the kindness shown they gossiped, griped and sniped, or left her alone And so she packed, went back to her solitude while townsfolk declared her, “evil, rotten, rude” Moral of this story: despite how things seem there are ways of living, and not all “mainstream”... By rejecting oddness in your neighborhood you might just be missing something oddly good!
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