When an old lady died in the 
geriatric ward of a small hospital 
near Dundee, Scotland, it was believed
that she had nothing left of any 
value. Later, when the nurses were 
going through her meagre possessions,
they found this poem. Its quality and
content so impressed the staff that 
copies were made and distributed to 
every nurse in the hospital. One 
nurse took her copy to Ireland. The 
old lady's sole bequest to posterity 
has since appeared in the Christmas 
edition of the News Magazine of the 
North Ireland Association for Mental 
Health. A slide presentation has also 
been made based on her simple, but 
eloquent, poem. 
And this little old Scottish lady, 
with nothing left to give to the 
world, is now the author of this 
'anonymous' poem winging across the 
Internet: 

Crabby Old Woman
What do you see, nurses.
What do you see?
What are you thinking
When you're looking at me?
A crabby old woman
Not very wise,
Uncertain of habit,
With faraway eyes?
Who dribbles her food
And makes no reply. 
When you say in a loud voice 
'I do wish you'd try!' 
Who seems not to notice 
The things that you do, 
And forever is losing 
A stocking or shoe?
Who, resisting or not,
Lets you do as you will, 
With bathing and feeding,
The long day to fill? 
Is that what you're thinking?
Is that what you see? 
Then open your eyes, nurse,
You're not looking at me.
I'll tell you who I am 
As I sit here so still, 
As I do at your bidding, 
As I eat at your will. 
I'm a small child of ten
With a father and mother, 
Brothers and sisters 
Who love one another.
A young girl of sixteen 
With wings on her feet 
Dreaming that soon now
A lover she'll meet. 
A bride soon at twenty,
My heart gives a leap, 
Remembering the vows 
That I promised to keep.
At twenty-five now, 
I have young of my own, 
Who need me to guide
And a secure happy home. 
A woman of thirty,
My young now grown fast, 
Bound to each other
With ties that should last.
At forty, my young sons
Have grown and are gone, 
But my man's beside me
To see I don't mourn 
At fifty once more,
Babies play round my knee, 
Again we know children,
My loved one and me.
Dark days are upon me,
My husband is dead, 
I look at the future, 
I shudder with dread. 
For my young are all rearing 
Young of their own, 
And I think of the years
And the love that I've known.
I'm now an old woman
And nature is cruel; 
Tis jest to make old age 
Look like a fool. 
The body, it crumbles,
Grace and vigor depart, 
There is now a stone
Where I once had a heart.
But inside this old carcass
A young girl still dwells, 
And now and again,
My battered heart swells. 
I remember the joys, I remember the pain, 
And I'm loving and living
Life over again.
I think of the years
All too few, gone too fast, 
And accept the stark fact
That nothing can last. 
So open your eyes, people,
Open and see, 
Not a crabby old woman;
Look closer......see,.....ME!!