Classic Poem

" Helpa Madre Angelotti,
Geeva pennee, geeva pennee!
Geeva, and I pray for you!
For da kinda ladee,
An' da younga fellow,
An' da leetla girl! "

Withered Mother Angelotti,
I'll not buy your prayers with pennies!
Grin above them in your palm —
Still they're not the coins you think them!
One is silvered, as with tear-shine,
One is rusty-red, like heart-break,
One, I own, is light as laughter
For your ancient, battered shrewdness,
Wheedling Mother Angelotti —
Take them for your wrinkled prayers!

Prayers are things we all have need of,
Grey old Mother Angelotti —
The kind lady,
And the young fellow,
And the little girl.