It was an old, old, old, old lady, <br />And a boy that was half-past three; <br />And the way that they played together <br />Was beautiful to see. <br /> <br />She couldn't go running or jumping, <br />And the boy, no more could he; <br />For he was a thin litte fellow, <br />With a thin little twisted knee. <br /> <br />They sat in the yellow sunlight, <br />Out under the maple tree; <br />And the game that they played I'll tell you, <br />Just as it was told to me. <br /> <br />It was Hide-and-Go-Seek they were playing, <br />Though you've never have known it to be-- <br />With an old, old, old, old lady, <br />And a boy with a twisted knee. <br /> <br />The boy would bend his face down <br />On his one little sound right knee, <br />And he'd guess where she was hiding, <br />In guesses One, Two, Three! <br /> <br />'You are in the china-closet!' <br />He would cry, and laugh with glee-- <br />It wasn't the china closet, <br />But he still had Two and Three. <br /> <br />'You are up in papa's big bedroom, <br />In the chest with the queer old key!' <br />And she said: 'You are warm and warmer; <br />But you're not quite right,' said she. <br /> <br />'It can't be the little cupboard <br />Where mamma's things used to be-- <br />So it must be the clothes-press, Gran'ma!' <br />And he found her with his Three. <br /> <br />Then she covered her face with her fingers, <br />That were wrinkled and white and wee, <br />And she guessed where the boy was hiding, <br />With a One and a Two and a Three. <br /> <br />And they never had stirred from their places, <br />Right under the maple tree-- <br />This old, old, old, old lady <br />And the boy with the lame little knee-- <br />This dear, dear, dear old lady, <br />And the boy who was half-past three.<br /><br />Henry Cuyler Bunner<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/one-two-three-11/
