She was every parent’s good little girl
Whatever the ridicule
Whenever she didn't giggle at boys
But raised her hand to answer

And was quick to tell the puzzled faces
In Mr. Hanson’s World History class
Of all her dead relations
Who proudly ate their rotten potatoes.

And what other girl at seventeen
Loved “The Lamb” by William Blake,
Then cried for days when she read “The Tiger”
That just now filched one half of her sandwich?

Wondering why they would laugh when they're mad,
Margaret gave thanks for the half that she had,
Gently rubbed her smitten cheek,
And turned again the other.

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