# Cranky Old Man (A poem not a joke)



## MalanCris (Apr 2, 2007)

CRANKY OLD MAN

When an old man died in the geriatric ward of a nursing home in an Australian country town, it was believed that he had nothing left of any value.

Later, when the nurses were going through his 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 Melbourne . The old man's sole bequest to posterity has since appeared in the Christmas editions of magazines around the 
country and appearing in magazines for Mental Health. A slide presentation has also been made based on his simple, but eloquent, poem.

And this old man, with nothing left to give to the world, is now the author of this 'anonymous' poem winging across the Internet.

Cranky Old Man

What do you see nurses? . . . . .What do you see? 
What are you thinking . . . . . when you're looking at me?
A cranky old man, . . . .. .not very wise,
Uncertain of habit .. . .. . . . . with faraway eyes?

Who dribbles his 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 sock 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 boy of Eighteen . . . . . with wings on his feet
Dreaming that soon now . . . . .. a lover he'll meet 
A groom soon at Twenty five. . . .. . my heart gives a leap.
Remembering, the vows . . . . . that I promised to keep.

At Thirty, now . . . . . I have young of my own.
Who need me to guide . . . . . And a secure happy home. 
A man of Forty . . . . . . . My young now grow fast,
Bound to each other . . . . . . With ties that should last.

At Fifty, my young sons . . . . . have grown and are gone,
But my woman is beside me . . . . . to see I don't mourn. 
At Sixty, once more, . . . . . ..Babies play 'round my knee,
Again, we know children . . . . . My loved one and me.

Dark days are upon me . . . . . My wife is now 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 man . . . . . and nature is cruel.
It's jest to make old age . . . . . look like a fool. 
The body, it crumbles . . . . . . grace and vigour, depart.
There is now a stone . . . . . . where I once had a heart.

But inside this old carcass . . . . . A young man 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 cranky old man . Look closer . . .. . see . . . . . ME!!

Remember this poem when you next meet an older person who you might brush aside without looking at the young soul within ... . . . 
we will all, one day, be there, too!


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## mandyandandy (Oct 1, 2006)

This poem has been on the go for many years it is called Crabbit Old Woman and you will find it in many nursing home staff rooms and hospital wards. 

It is said to have been written by an Irish lady and found in her bedside locker. If you do a search on it you will find many stories regarding its origin. 

I love it, I also have the nurses reply if you are interested. 

Take care
Mandy


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## mandyandandy (Oct 1, 2006)

Amazing isn't it what you can find, just 2 examples of things written and the closeness to your opening is uncanny. 

Wonder what the real story was though. 

When an old lady died in the geriatric ward of a small hospital near
Dundee, Scotland, it was felt that she had nothing left of any value.
Later, when the nurses were going through her meager 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.
Goes to show that we all leave "SOME footprints in time"





A touching tale but only an urban myth ( the location of the hospital
changes whenever you hear the story ). In fact the poem ("Crabbit Old
Woman" ) was written by a minor British poet Phyllis McCormack in
about 1900. It has eevn appeared as a set work on English Literature
exams in Britain - that's how well it is known.


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## ardgour (Mar 22, 2008)

Regardless of where or when it was written it is still a powerful reminder that should be read by everyone who looks after the elderly. 
I would have it printed on the forehead of every new nurse, care worker or doctor then maybe the older members of our society would be given the respect they are due (and I am speaking as an ex nurse).

I have another similar poem called 'the library of life' which I think I found in one of the care journals many years ago.

Chris


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