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This is a poem that really spoke to Bridget of The Happy Quitter. “Yes, ‘The crabby old man’, that’s a poem that hit me hard,” she said. I thought it was well worth posting on here. In my opinion it’s talking about what we all want — respect in our declining years.

(I did a little research to find the origin and author of the poem. See the end for a note about it.)

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reclaimreform.com

reclaimreform.com

 

Crabby Old Man

What do you see, nurses? . . . . . What do you see?
What are you thinking . . . . . when you’re looking at me?
A crabby old man, . . . . . not very wise,
Uncertain of habit, . . . . . with faraway eyes?

Who dribbles his food . . . . . and makes no reply
When you say in a loud voice . . . . . ‘I do wish you’d try!’
Who seems not to notice . . . . . the things that you do
And forever is losing . . . . . A sock or shoe?

Who, resisting or not, . . . . . lets you do as you will,
With bathing and feeding . . . . . the long day to fill?
Is that what you’re thinking? . . . . . Is that what you see?
Then open your eyes, nurse, . . . . . you’re not looking at me.

I’ll tell you who I am, . . . . . as I sit here so still,
As I do your bidding, . . . . . as I eat at your will.
I’m a small child of Ten . . . . . with a father and mother,
Brothers and sisters, . . . . .. who love one another.

A young boy of Sixteen . . . . . with wings on his feet
Dreaming that soon now . . . . . a lover he’ll meet.
A groom soon at Twenty, . . . . . my heart gives a leap
Remembering the vows . . . . . that I promised to keep.

At Twenty-Five, now . . . . . I have young of my own
Who need me to guide, . . . . . and a secure happy home.
A man of Thirty, . . . . . my young now grown fast,
Bound to each other . . . . . with ties that should last.

At Forty, my young sons . . . . . have grown, and are gone,
But my woman’s beside me . .. . . . to see I don’t mourn.
At Fifty, once more, . . . . . babies play ’round my knee,
Again, we know children . . . . . My loved one and me.

Dark days are upon me . . . . . My wife is now dead.
I look at the future . . .. . . I shudder with dread
For my young are all rearing . . . . . young of their own.
And I think of the years . . . . . and the love that I’ve known.

I’m now an old man . . . . . and nature is cruel.
‘Tis jest, to make old age . . . . . look like a fool.
The body, it crumbles; . . .. . . grace and vigor depart.
There is now a stone . . . . . where I once had a heart.

But inside this old carcass . . . . . a young guy still dwells,
And now and again . . . . . my battered heart swells.
I remember the joys, . . . . . I remember the pain.
And I’m loving and living . . . . . life over again.

I think of the years, all too few, . . . . . gone too fast,
And accept the stark fact . . . . . that nothing can last.
So open your eyes, people . . . . . open and see.
Not a crabby old man. Look closer; . . . . . see ME!!
`

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Note:

The story about the old man (in some versions described as 100 years old) is a fabrication.

The poem, titled Too Soon Old, was written by Dave Griffith of Fort Worth, Texas.  Griffith told TruthOrFiction.com that he wrote the poem more than 20 years ago and that he meant for it to be simple and to the point, from youth through old age in his own personal life, high school football, Marines, marriage, the ravages of his own disabilities.

It was brought to our attention that this poem is an adaptation of “Crabbit Old Woman” by Phyllis McCormack who was a nurse at the Sunnyside Royal Hospital in Hillside, north of Montrose, Scotland.

Someone took the poem from his site, created a false story about it, and started it circulating on the Internet.

Griffith is the author of more than 500 poems, which are posted on his personal website. (TruthorFiction.com)