A res'dent in a Nursing homeFor years, where, work, did I,A lady in late eighties,A spinster, by and by.
She had been a professorIn University,Her seventies, learnt piano,To play, to you and me.She had a sense of humour,By chance, I found that out,Our Francis was still 'with it'Though oft times, one could doubt.Her eyesight had been failing,So she was needing fed,And as was norm, we told herWhat was on her plate bed.A staple in the home, there,Was potato pie, with meat,The residents enjoyed it,"Twas pretty good, to eat.
Before we started feeding,Informed, what her plate held,Did NOT expect her response,With laughter, my heart swelled.''It's Shepherds pie for dinner"Then heard her quick reply,"Do I 'ave to eat the shepherd?"
With laughter, tears, did cry.
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