There was an old lady
laid up in her bed;
annoyed by an old man,
not right in the head.
He came calling one night,
acting very ill-bred.
With an empty bottle
she cracked him on the head
Not easily dissuaded,
upon his first try
he returned again
with a gleam in his eye.
On this unlucky eve
as he climbed on her bed
a water-filled bottle
cracked him on the head.
"I've been in a fisticuffs!"
she blithely told me,
"with a feisty old man
who tried to bed me;
now when I see him,
'Don't hit me', he'll say.
He covers his head
and gets out of my away."
(This was told to me, on a visit to the nursing home, by my "feisty" poetry writing friend in her ninety-fifth year. She had an amazing mind and had self-published two poetry/prose books of her own collection.)
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