She was born a bald little lassie
Long and thin, truly, ever so pretty
6lbs-8oz if memory serves me well
She was slender and strong as a gazelle.
She'd a bit of that yellow barley jaundice.
She lay on my lap; her eyes opened-wondrous
She'd match for grace all the tiny wild cowslips
I'd laugh! 'I'd nicknamed her chips'
Because of her yellowing, jaundice—after
Finally, she came home with her mother
I changed that name to 'clothes peg'
As seemed right... even if a little bowleg,
She'd lie in the little red washing basket.
Just as if it had been her Moses basket
Clothes peg stuck; it was only proper
As we hung her out to quietly jabber.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem