Grandmother's Song - Pierce Pettis

My grandmother wrote poetry

That she rarely let other people read

And the words were sweet, though they never did meet

With critical acclaim

But the ones who read it often said

This ought to be published, this ought to be read

But she would not agree

And they said it was a shame

That the world could continue to turn
Unaware and unconcerned
And never even know it
That she was poet
A poet in her own time

From the time she was a gangly girl
Her books took her off to another world
Of Ivanhoe, Henry David Thoreau, and Edgar Allen Poe
But in Mississippi people don't generally read
They just look at pictures in magazines
So it's not a surprise that she kept to herself
And spent her time alone

And she did pretty well in school
She went to teacher's college, too
But the teachers didn't know it
That she was a poet
A poet in her own time

Well, she met and she married a railroad man
She didn't do so much writing then
But his work made him travel about
"Southern 'Serves the South"
And the great depression swept on in
Like a cold, unexpected northern wind
He forgot to come home one day
And she was left with three kids to raise

And there was nothing else a woman could do
Except to draw her paycheck
Teaching school
And the pupils didn't know it
But teacher was a poet
A poet in her own time

Now my grandmother lies in a crumpled bed
And at night she hears voices in her head
And the family worries in the whispering dark
If she's got her religion right
It's a hardening of the arteries
It's a softening of the mind
And I mean to go and see her, but I cannot ever
Seem to find the time

And at the nurses' station at night
They work crossword puzzles by the switchboard light
And the nurses don't know it
But grandma was a poet
A poet in her own time

Yeah the nurses don't know it
But grandma is a poet
A poet in her own time

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