AUNT MARANDY ~~~ Written by Stanley Peterson

 

AUNT MARANDY

 

This is a copy of a poem written by Stanley Peterson.

Folks call her Aunt Marandy and to them she's very dear,

Because she's worked and slave for them for many many a year.

No sacrifice too great for her, no duty will she shun,

She'll keep on trying day and night, until the job is done.

She's raised a family of her own, of them she's very proud,

Like all good mothers of the town, she'll praise them right out loud.

And then because of her ministrations, there are so many others

Who worship and adore her so and gladly call her mother.

She's cooked and darned and scrubbed so much, til not she cannot see,

But yet ambition drives her on, content she will not be

You'll find her busy, unafraid, a quilting every day

Until each grandchild has a quilt to keep the cold away.

And there she sits all soul alone, her hair a turning grey,

Her friend so rarely visit her and none with her will stay.

And still she keeps a plugging on, a doing all she can,

She'll keep on striving to the end, dependent on no man.

Her love of God and man and beast is, oh, so very real,

Her place in heaven on God's right hand, from her no one can steal.

And when her years upon this earth have been awhile suspended,

Her noble spirit with that of God will be completely blended.