Was he your father then, that handsome man?
Mothersisterdaughter, which one are you?
Diddle, diddle, dumpling, the moon fell down
a spider ago. Oh dear, what shall I do?
Miss Mary, quite contrary, oh where
are all my children now? Pease porridge wide,
when I’m singing & I waltz through a door,
someone else staggers out the other side
(of course, I crooked-step at eighty-nine
years old) & I riddle patiently bedside,
calling John, my John, & when I complain
someone whispers Mother, dear, he died.
Who fiddled me through upon a time like this,
from Little Jack to Humpty Dumpty’s kiss?