A Silly Poem - The Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe

Once upon a time---an old woman lived in a shoe—

Do you recall that she had so many children she didn’t know what to do?

Her tale of woe is not foreclosure nor loss of escrow;

Her remarkable and foreboding brood is the real back story of this Irish boot show.

First, Alfred appeared, adored not—he was achy with colic and abhorrent,

Followed closely by brooding Basil, a blissful but brave little runt.

Not willing to quit with only two, a third was soon born;

Cabot cleverly popped out in a field of popcorn.

Three hundred days later three more joined her sublet--

Dagwood was a dreadfully distressed triplet;

His womb-mates were eccentric Elmer and fitful Fritz--

Both boys adding to the yet young woman’s battle of wits.

She petitioned God when pregnant again because a lassie was desired,

Grace was her reward, a baby whose gentility was admired.

Along came a surprise that very next year—it was Humphrey--

A horrific screamer—this seventh son was a hedonistic banshee.

Triplets arrived again, now three females were her newest offspring:

Iris, Jonquil, and Kale were not sweet peas affixed to a teething ring;

No, a boxing ring was needed for irascible Iris and jinxed Jonquil.

Wee little Kale had a cry known far and wide for her peal so shrill.

A kittenish babe was surely yet on the agenda for her family.

The mother of eleven waited three years for Lucy and Molly to join this pageantry.

Livid was Lucy; Molly was maniacal—two more monstrous additions.

Following the next winter was nasty, naughty Nigel—number fourteen.

Obedient and obliging, the old woman gave birth to yet another;

Obtuse and obnoxious were Oscar’s traits familiar to his overwrought mother.

Double twins came the following years: placid and quaint were Prissy and Queeny

Rosie the rebel and Sage the sassy one peppered the old gal’s dreams of escape to Killarney.

Sorry she’d ever prayed for girls, the next was a boy named Tucker.

He was a tenacious, troublesome lad who was doomed to speak with a st-stutter.

Exhausted and looking toward the end, the next two had two-letter names:

Ug was unmotivated and Vi was violently prone to playing with flames.

Born together, not sure of who won the race from the birth canal were Wyn and Xoe;

Wicked, willful, and xenophobic these two lasses made their old mother melancholy.

Would it ever end?  How much more could she endure?

Two more was the answer that came; one of each—then she could be done for sure.

Yullianna she named to honor both her parents Yule and Anna;

This change of tactic brought a yummy yawning child who was the top banana.

For the last she consulted a baby name book; Zaneboro was the name for this new life;

Defined as the good one; she tied a double knot with the midwife.

So now, what to do, where to shoehorn her brood?  With so many in tow?

When the old man deserted her, there was really nowhere else to go.

The shoe factory built to resemble a Welly boot had flip-flopped in the poor economy.

The old lady and her twenty six kids were squatters renowned for their clog cacophony.

To make ends meet, they learned to dance the folk ballet of the Peruvian zapateo;

On the downbeats they stomped enthusiastically, clogging, jigging, and raking in dough.

Thousands paid to watch them perform, ‘round the world they danced heel and toe —

And now they live high on the clogs--kicking up their heels everywhere they go.

Copyright 02/18/14 Marilyn White

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I admire the macabre style of Edward Gorey, a writer/illustrator of children's A to Z books.  I set out trying to write this poem in his style.  I will read it on Friday night at the Poetry reading event at the Sequel bookstore in Enumclaw, February 21, 7-9 p.m.