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!
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (A Dubious Boot by Connie Yost )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley