Irish Nanny Poem by shimon weinroth

I was born in Brooklyn
had an Irish Catholic Nanny,
who left me after the depression

Oh Mrs.Mac Donald
sweet smelling beefy arms
and mammoth bosoms
how could you
grow up and leave me,

I remember when
my humpty dunpty fell on the floor
I screamed mamma help her,
everyone roared and laughed
she got up and hugged me, i stopped crying

the next day she took me to church
prayed for grace among
the soft cushioned pews
dark red wine carpets,
painted windows and smooth statues
she would not let me kneel

mamma was angry with her
my father's synagogue was different
always so cold and austere
God knows I loved her,

when I was fifteen, ahe came to visit
but i was too busy playing baseball
still angry because she grew up
and went away