Our Annie, who has grown tired and old –
And whose hair has tuned to gray –
Was once a lovely, young, Irish lass –
She was laughing, young, carefree and gay.
Those lines that crease her face and brow –
The crinkles around her eyes –
Speak much for the way she’s lived her life –
Just stop and realize! The fortunes she sought, when she came here –
That “money” that “grew on trees” –
Was always a little beyond her reach –
Then was gone with the autumn’s breeze.
But I’m sure if grandma could tell you –
She’d say, with a twinkling eye –
“While I never found fame or fortune –
I learned how to laugh and to cry.
And let me tell you children –
The joys in life are dear –
And happiness won’t mean so much –
If you’ve never shed a tear.
To live life to it’s fullest –
You must have some cloudy days –
Then, when the sun is shining –
You’ll appreciate its rays.
That wealth that never came my way –
I do not mind at all –
For wealth is not in money –
It’s in blessings, great and small.
And God has truly blessed me –
With a long and fruitful life –
And a faith that has sustained me –
To live the way that’s right”.
She’ll always mean a lot to us –
‘Tis because of her, don’t you suppose –
That we are, partly, who and what we are –
Because of grandma – are own Irish Rose.
Gaylia Kenslow – Stogsdill
Written for Anna Kennedy Zimmerman, Gail’s Grandmother In-law.
Copyright Roy Richard