I'm fortunate my mom and dad
Had sisters by the score;
As I grow older I recall
Them fondly more and more.

My Auntie Dote knew what to do
When anyone was ill;
She always had a recipe
Or else a magic pill.

In cooking, Auntie Pasto was
The best of all to start,
But few would say her lone entree
Was culinary art.

My Auntie Cedent much preferred
To be the very first
In any group and always said
To be behind was worst,

While Auntie Penult did not like
To be up front in line
Or yet quite last and so she thought
Third from the end was fine.

My Auntie Bellum loved the past,
Deplored the modern ways,
And in the doings of today
Found little left to praise.

And when it came to cleanliness
My Auntie Septic shone;
She scrubbed and scoured, she boiled and bathed
And gargled with cologne.

My Auntie Social, oh so shy,
Retiring and demure,
Could be quite charming but, alas,
Was always insecure.

The only aunt with whom I could
Not ever be at ease . . .
For whom I never felt much warmth . . .
Was poor old Auntie Freeze!

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