BY NORMAN GALE

When Aunt Jan’s coming there’s such romping in the house,
She’s sweeter than a daffodil and softer than a mouse!
She sings about the passages, and never wants to rest,
And father says it’s all because a bird is in her breast.

When Aunt Jan’s kissing there’s such a crowding round her knees,
Such clambers to her bosom, and such battles for a squeeze!
We dirty both her snowy cuffs, we trample on her gown,
And sometimes all her yellow hair comes tumbling, tumbling down.

When Aunt Jan’s dancing we all watch her as she goes,
With in-and-out and round-about upon her shiny toes;
And when her merry breath is tired she stops the fun and stands
To curtsy saucily to us, or kiss her pretty hands.

When Aunt Jan’s playing, the piano seems alive,
With all the notes as busy as the bees are in a hive;
And when it’s time for Bedfordshire, as sweetly as a lark
She sings that God is waiting to protect us in the dark.

When Aunt Jan’s leaving we are not ashamed to cry,
A-kissing at the station and a-waving her good-by;
But springtime brings the crocus after winter, rain and frost
So dear Aunt Jan will come again. She isn’t really lost.