The obituary notice of Luciane MURFITT

Mrs Malone's Sister

1. In real life
Mrs Malone had a sister;
She was always on hand
To help and assist her.
Nothing deterred her -
She was there for all ills
And came by for nothing
To help with the pills.
She weeded the garden
And sorted the muddles;
She even indulged them
With armfuls of cuddles.
When transport was needed
She was there with the car;
If you needed some help
She was really a star.
With a sister like this
You were never alone.
'I'm ever so grateful,'
Said Mrs Malone.

2. She was there for the clean-ups,
She was there for the vet;
She provided the transport
For each little pet.
If you protested:
'I'm sorry! It's getting too much!'
She only retorted:
'Don't give me that tush!'
'But you were only here
Last Monday week!'
She focussed on action
And tickled a beak.
'Put that bird in this basket
And give it to me;
There's no need for drama
The vet it will see!'
And off she would go
Without as much as a moan,
'I'll sort this pet out
For Mrs Malone!'

RIP Luciane
We miss the help.

[..."Mrs Malone" (poem) continued from previous tribute...]

...

5. Come Thursday a donkey
Stepped in off the road
With sores on his withers
From bearing a load.
Come Friday when icicles
Pierced the white air
Down from the mountainside
Lumbered a bear.
For each she had something,
If little, to give -
'Lord knows, the poor critters
Must all of 'em live.'
She gave them her sacking,
Her hood and her shawl,
Her loaf and her teapot -
She gave them her all.
'What with one thing and t'other
Me fambily's grown,
And there's room fer another,'
Said Mrs Malone.

6. Come Saturday evening
When time was to sup
Mrs Malone
Had forgot to sit up.
The cat said 'meeow',
And the sparrow said 'peep',
The vixen, 'she's sleeping',
The bear, 'let her sleep'.
On the back of the donkey
They bore her away,
Through trees and up mountains
Beyond night and day,
Till come Sunday morning
They brought her in state
Through the last cloudbank
As far as the Gate.
'Who is it,' asked Peter,
'You have with you there?'
And donkey and sparrow,
Cat, vixen and bear

7. Exclaimed, 'Do you tell us
Up here she's unknown?
It's our mother, God bless us!
It's Mrs Malone
Whose havings were few
And whose holding was small
And whose heart was so big
It had room for us all.'
Then Mrs Malone
Of a sudden awoke,
She rubbed her two eye-balls
And anxiously spoke:
'Where am I, to goodness,
And what do I see?
My dears, let's turn back,
This ain't no place fer me!'
But Peter said, 'Mother
Go in to the Throne.
There's room for another
One, Mrs Malone.'

by Eleanor Farjeon
A Puffin Quartet of Poets
chosen by Eleanor Graham
Puffin Books 1958
Reprinted 1985
ISBN 0-14-030121-6

Mrs Malone

1. Mrs Malone
Lived hard by a wood
All on her lonesome
As nobody should.
With her crust on a plate
And her pot on the coal
And none but herself
To converse with, poor soul.
In a shawl and a hood
She got sticks out-o'-door,
On a bit of old sacking
She slept on the floor,
And nobody, nobody
Asked how she fared
Or knew how she managed,
For nobody cared.
Why make a pother
About an old crone?
What for should they bother
With Mrs Malone?

2. One Monday in winter
With snow on the ground
So thick that a footstep
Fell without sound,
She heard a faint frostbitten
Peck on the pane
And went to the window
To listen again.
There sat a cock-sparrow
Bedraggled and weak,
With half-open eyelid
And ice on his beak.
She threw up the sash
And she took the bird in,
And mumbled and fumbled it
Under her chin.
'Ye're all of a smother,
Ye're fair overblown!
I've room fer another,'
Said Mrs Malone.

3. Come Tuesday while eating
Her dry morning slice
With the sparrow a-picking
('Ain't company nice!')
She heard on her doorpost
A curious scratch,
And there was a cat
With its claw on the latch.
It was hungry and thirsty
And thin as a lath,
It mewed and it mowed
On the slithery path.
She threw the door open
And warmed up some pap,
And huddled and cuddled it
In her old lap.
'There, there, little brother,
Ye poor skin-an'-bone,
There's room fer another,'
Said Mrs Malone.

4. Come Wednesday while all of them
Crouched on the mat
With a crumb for the sparrow,
A sip for the cat,
There was wailing and whining
Outside in the wood,
And there sat a vixen
With six of her brood.
She was haggard and ragged
And worn to a shred,
And her half-dozen babies
Were only half-fed,
But Mrs Malone, crying
'My! ain't they sweet!'
Happed them and lapped them
And gave them to eat.
'You warm yerself, mother,
Ye're cold as a stone!
There's room fer another,'
Said Mrs Malone.

...

[Word limit reached so will continue in a new tribute...]

All life matters

"But be glad and rejoice forever in that which I create."

Isaiah 65:18 (ESV)

When illness will be no more.

"Let his flesh become fresh with youth; let him return to the days of his youthful vigour."

Job 33:25 (ESV)

"Mes lies huni yw kynsa a vydh diwettha, ha'n re dhiwettha kynsa."

Matthew 19:30

You may be surprised.

"But many who are first will be last, and the last first."

Matthew 19:30 (ESV)