A Dubious Boot
There was an old woman who lived in a boot,
No children, but lots of cupiditive loot.
Down deep in the toe went her dollars each week,
To keep them from those who might come and go seek.
Her dinner was thin middling broth without bread,
No salmon or pasta, saved money instead.
As thinner and slimmer the greedy one grew,
Her secret was sacred so nobody knew.
Some fine finger-lickin' the citizens brought,
Nice portions of chicken to thicken her broth.
She cackled, 'So grateful been down on my luck!
Can't pay for the plateful, no penny, no buck! '
More bulky and hulky the bulging boot drew,
Until it burst open, then everyone knew!
So under one's mattress one must keep one's loot,
Not down in the toe of one's dubious boot!
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (A Dubious Boot by Connie Yost )
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
Harivansh Rai Bachchan
(27 November 1907 – 18 January 2003)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(7 May 1861 – 7 August 1941)
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