I knew a sweet little lady,
That lived in just a shack
It's all she ever knew,
From her childhood way back

I never heard her complain,
About what she didn't have.
Never complained about anything,
Not when I was around.

This little old lady was my aunt,
That lived in the shack
I'd ride a train part way to her house,
Then walked a mile of railroad track.

She lived back in the backwoods,
As we say in Arkansas.
But it was fun at her house,
Sleeping under mosquito nets,
Eating breakfast by the old wood stove.

That old house was cold and damp,
Sometimes we almost froze,
But she would chuck that old wood stove,
And soon the chill was gone.

Her sons did finally build a house,
But for her it was too late.
Too old and tired to enjoy the things,
Those years had taken away.

She now lives in a mansion,
All lovely warm and new.
No wood stoves to keep her warm,
For God takes care of you.

Faye Reyenga ©
4 / 19 12007
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Show me Thy ways, O Lord;
teach me Thy paths.
Psalm 25:4