The crone

I am a wannabe crone
I wanna be a crone
I wanna be a crone
I wanna wanna wanna wanna wanna be a crone.
The crone is so cool
The crone is so old.
She can turn a fool into a pot of gold.
The crone is so wise
Wiser than her years (yes even hers)
The crone is also wiser than all of her peers.
Chorus
The crone is so juicy
And whacky to boot
Her laugh is a cackle
Oh she is such a hoot!
(if you met her you’d love her too)
She enjoys telling stories
And cures many an ache and ail
She knits up tales with her yarn
She can cook up remedies
With her herbs and plants
She’s a Wise old woman
She’s been there done that
She’s done there been that
She has witnessed LIFE and lived it too
There’s nothing she can’t do.
Chorus
Her home is a house
At the end of the town
(or the city or the village)
She lives by the sea
Or the tree, as the case may be
Her wit is her whip
Or, is it that her whip is her wit?
Anyhow, she doesn’t like intruders
So don’t you go bother her
For she will lash you with her sash
And drink you in her goulash
But should you need her truly
She’ll be with you surely and gladly
No problem is too big or small
She can handle them all
She will listen to your troubles
In such a compassionate way
They’ll be gone …Poof!
And you will feel like you are on a holiday.
Her counsel is clear, though often contrary
If you follow her advice
You will free yourself from vice and avarice
She can teach you a lesson
In such an emphatic fashion
That it will stay with you and serve you
Your whole life through
At the very least.
Chorus
The town’s lore is in her store
She knows who married who and exactly when
She knows who birthed who and exactly where
'Coz of course she was there
Right beside the mother,
Helping her, calming her, coaxing her, soothing her etc.
But back to the town’s lore
She’ll tell it to you
If you ask her nicely, politely
She even knows who copulated with who
and exactly how (Gasp)
But she won’t tell you that
Not for a 100 guineas or sous.
She knows a million recipes
Although she be no gourmet chef
The soup she can cook is so tasty and yummy
It’ll fill your belly, tickle your tummy,
And leave you feeling hale, hearty and rummy
Chorus
The crone is so awesome
She can train a possum
Although common sense is her tool
She can be uncommon to save a soul
The crone is a witch, a shaman, a sorceress
Of much cunning
Yet her heart is loving and nurturing
She can do a lot of good and some bad
But mostly she is beyond all of that
The crone has no morals
(though she does have values and sound ones at that)
No norms, no social codes to follow
She is free to be uncouth
Free to speak her truth
To sing out loud and Holler
Chorus
(the Jungian stanza)
The crone has read many a book
Or maybe none at all
What she knows she has gathered
From life’s experiences and observations
And intelleginces far and beyond
(who she met in her Active Imagination)
She can straddle her Shadow
And rise into the Netherland
She can wear this Persona or that
And float inot any social circle or swap
She can use her Ego to fulfill a goal or so
She married her Animus quite a while ago
and they are one not two
She rocks the Divine Child on her knee
and they can have such a ball
the Wise Old Man pays her a social call
every now and then, and seeks her advice secretly
The Joker, the Jester, the Clown
are just aces up her sleeve
Eros is an old pal and Death is a friend
she hasn’t met yet, but who is waiting to call
And she is ready. Oh, yes she is ready to go.
But while Death tarries
The Crone is in no hurry
She has no qualms, nor worries
For she is your mama’s mama’s mama
And she can do no wrong
Chorus
The crone is so wild
Wilder that the wolves of all of Yellowstone
The crone is so wise
Wiser than the wisdom of a hundred thousand tomes
She may be frail
She may be strong
But believe you me
She can wrap up her world into a song.