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Mrs Gray Who Came to Stay


Mrs Grey with an E?
Gray with an A?
My sister and I
were full of dismay
when she came to stay.

Our mother had to go away 
to far-off Hawke's Bay -
her sister was ill again -
'just for a few days
till your aunt is well again'.

We already knew bad things
about that Mrs Gray.
She didn't like kids!
She didn't like talking.
She cooked nasty food
and made us eat it.
That was at her place
in Taranaki -

now she was coming to stay
in our own house -
Mother would be away
in far-off Hawke's Bay.

Mrs Gray came. 
Mother left
by bus and train
(get off the express
at Palmerston,
change then
to the Napier line)
leaving the two of us bereft.

So our first night
without Mum fell -
Mrs Gray cooked
our very first meal.
It was large and vile,
potatoes lumpy,
Mrs Gray grumpy,
we two grumpier,
pudding lumpier.

After dinner she allowed
no play outside.
Bathtime - overseen
as if we were unclean
of mind as well as skin
and about to sin.

School next day 
(packed lunch - so dry!)
was good at least for play,
free and noisy.
Going home slowly,
feet dragging, uneasy.

'There you are! What took
you so long? Now sit
down with a book
and keep quiet.
Dinner's on -
ready soon.
Then you can have
an early night.'

She was a fright,
that Mrs Gray.
If you peeked on her
when she was free
she'd be sitting still
on the settee
staring into space.
She was a widow,
that we knew.
That must be
what widows do.

Roll on the day
when her sister
in Hawke's Bay
is well again,
Mum takes the train,
the day of Mum's return!

It came - none too soon.
The express got in
from Palmerston,
on time, on track!
and gave her back
to us again.

'Goodbye, Mrs Gray!'
(Go back to Taranaki -
come again no other day -
be a good widow shut
in your empty house
with windows locked -
and stay away!)

We ate well again,
went freely out to play,
romped at bath-time
splashing each other
and our mother,
went singing late to bed.
She tucked us up that night -
we smiled up at her so bright.