Crabbit Old woman

When an old lady died in the geriatric ward of a small hospital near Dundee Scotland, it was believed that she had nothing of any value.

Later when the nursers were going through her meagre possessions they found this poem. Its quality and contents so impressed the staff that copies were made and distributed to every nurse in the hospital. One nurse took her copy to Ireland. The old lady's sole bequest to posterity has since appeared in the Christmas edition of the News Magazine of the North Ireland Association for Mental Health. A slide presentation has also been made based on her simple, but eloquent, poem.

And this little old Scottish lady, with nothing left to give to the world is now the author of this "anonymous" poem winging across the Internet

The Crabbit Old Women
What do you see nurses, what do you see
What are you thinking, when you're looking at me

A crabbit old woman, not very wise
Uncertain of habit, with faraway eyes

Who dribbles her food, and makes no reply
When you say in a loud voice, "I do wish you'd try"

Who seems not to notice, the things that you do
And forever is losing, a stocking or shoe

Who, resisting or not, lets you do as you will
With bathing and feeding, the long day to fill

Is that what you're thinking, is that what you see
The open you eyes, nurse you're not looking at me

I'll tell you who I am, as I sit here so still
As I do at your bidding, as I eat at your will

I'm a small child of ten, with a father and mother
Brothers and sisters, who love one another

A young girl of sixteen, with wings on her feet
Dreaming that soon now, a lover she'll meet

A bride soon at twenty, my heart gives a leap
Remembering the vows, that I promised to keep

At twenty-five now, I have young of my own
Who need me to guide, and a secure a happy home

A woman of thirty, my young now grow fast
Bound to each other, with ties that should last

At forty, my young sons, have grown and are gone
But my man's beside me, to see I don't mourn

At fifty once more, babies play round my knee
Again we know children, my loved one and me

Dark days are upon me, my husband is dead
I look at the future, I shudder with dread

For my young are all rearing, young of their own
And I think of the years, and the love that I've known

I'm now an old woman, and nature is cruel
Tis jest to make old age, look like a fool

The body it crumbles, grace and vigour depart
There is now a stone, where I once had a heart

But inside this old carcass, a young girl still dwells
And now and again, my battered heart swells

I remember the joys, I remember the pain
And I'm loving and living, life over again

I think of the years, all too few gone too fast
And accept the stark fact, that nothing can last

So open your eyes people, open and and see
Not a crabbit old woman, look closer….see, ME

Remember this poem when you next meet an older person
who you might brush aside without looking at the young soul within….
we may all, one day, be there. too!

Note: This poem is posted on: www.sydneyirishradio (items of interest link)