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How dare you laugh at Millie
With her orange dyed hair.
How dare you scorn her rotted teeth, pink hat
Lack of dress flair!
She has eleven children,
Mostly they are grown,
Her hands are gnarled
And her children love their home,
And her.
She shops at the Sallies
And buys junk food,
Every pension day she carries,
Goods home to her brood.
She doesn't drink or even smoke,
Though folks say
There is a bloke!
Strange — he never walks her way!
She's always glad to see you,
Has a warm and kindly heart,
I love the way she'll tell you
Tales you know are true,
Then, she'll give a scarlet laugh,
At Society's Dames a-passing,
And screeches high, still laughing,
"Good mornin’!"
As they look away in vain —
From her life —
Her bravely hidden pain.
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