One of my readers questioned why I did not give credit to Phyliss McCormick for writing the following poem, titled Who is really Inside, or, Crabbit Old Lady. When I first became aware of the poem in a994, during my undergraduate studies, I searched the internet for any justifiable reference to the poem. I listed those sites at the end of my page. They only listed the name Phyliss McCormick at the end of the poem, as I do, but all sites prefaced the poem by writing:
“When an old lady died in the geriatric ward of a hospital in England, it appeared she had left nothing of value. The nurse, packing up her possessions, found this poem.”
I have no idea who wrote this poem. At the time Wikipedia didn’t have any information about the author. There are too many conflicting stories and I ask you to decide for yourself. It only takes a quick search on the internet to get the various ideas about the author.
The Crabby Old Man poem is said to be a rendition of a poem by David Griffith in Texas.
Please visit the following site to begin your research journey:
http://mrmom.amaonline.com/stories/CrabbitOldWoman.htmWho is really inside?
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Crabbit_Old_WomanWhat do you see nurse, what do you see?
What are you thinking when you look at me?
http://www.hoax-slayer.com/cranky-old-man-poem.shtmlA crabbit old person, not very wise,
“Crabbit Old Woman”
What do you see, what do you see?
Are you thinking, when you look at me-
A crabbit old woman, not very wise,
Uncertain of habit, with far-away eyes,
Who dribbles her 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 loosing a stocking or shoe.
Who, unresisting or not; lets you do as you will
With bathing and feeding the long day is fill.
Is that what you’re thinking,
Is that what you see?
Then open your eyes,
nurse, you’re looking at me.
I’ll tell you who I am as I sit here so still!
As I rise at your bidding, as I eat at your will.
I‘m a small child of 10 with a father and mother,
Brothers and sisters, who loved one another-
A young girl of 16 with wings on her feet,
Dreaming that soon now a lover she’ll meet,
A bride soon at 20- my heart gives a leap,
Remembering the vows that I promised to keep.
At 25 now I have young of my own
Who need me to build a secure happy home;
A woman of 30, my young now grow fast,
Bound to each other with ties that should last;
At 40, my young sons have grown and are gone,
But my man’s beside me to see I don’t mourn;
At 50 once more babies play around my knee,
Again we know children, my loved one and me.
Dark days are upon me, my husband is 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 an old woman now and nature is cruel-
Tis her jest to make old age look like a fool.
The body is crumbled, grace and vigor depart,
There is now a stone where I once had a heart,
But inside this old carcass, a young girl still dwells,
And now and again my battered heart swells,
I remember the joy, 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, nurse, open and see,
Not a crabbit old woman, look closer-
See Me.
By Phyliss McCormick
A Nurse’s reply ” To the ‘Crabbit Old Woman”
What do we see, you ask, what do we see?
Yes, we are thinking when looking at thee!
We may seem to be hard when we hurry and fuss,
But there’s many of you, and too few of us.
We would like far more time to sit by you and talk,
To bath you and feed you and help you to walk.
To hear of your lives and the things you have done;
Your childhood, your husband, your daughter, your son.
But time is against us,
there’s too much to do -Patients too many, and nurses too few.
We grieve when we see you so sad and alone
With nobody near you, no friends of your own.
We feel all your pain,
and know of your fear That nobody cares now your end is so near
But nurses are people with feelings as well,
And when we’re together you’ll often hear tell Of the dearest old Gran in the very end bed,
And the lovely old Dad, and the things that he said,
We speak with compassion and love,
and feel sad When we think of your lives and the joy that you’ve had,
When the time has arrived for you to depart,
You leave us behind with an ache in our heart.
When you sleep the long sleep, no more worry or care,
There are other old people, and we must be there.
So please understand if we hurry and fuss –
There are many of you, And so few of us.
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 at 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 . . . . . 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!!
I had seen the first poem, but not the response. As I sit here with tears in my eyes, I think of my father, who is in a nursing home, far away from my home in Phoenix. He is blessed to have a brother that has loved him unconditionally and has seen to his care so patiently, despite my dad’s seeming ungratefulness. I have wondered what the nurses and aides who take care of Dad think, and feel as they deal with a person who is so frustrated with his situation that he is sometimes cantakerous and brash.
My father is in the nursing home at just 71 years old due to his past alcoholism and some other “accidents” that, really, were of his own doing. So to say that I feel sorry for him, is not quite right; at times I’ve even thought “He made his bed, now he has to lie in it.”
I do, however, feel compassion for him. And I’m sorry that he did not live up to his potential because of his addiction and choices. No matter what, he’s still my dad, he is a part of me and I am who I am is in great part due to the genetics that he has passed along to me. I don’t blame him anymore, I pray for him. And I do go and see him every time I’m in the town where he resides. It’s hard to see him that way, so helpless and frail, yet still with a chip on his shoulder because he feels he could take care of himself. He requires care that I am unable to give him. He deserves and should get the best care they can give him.
Thanks for posting these poems, Frank. You woke up something in me that I’ve been pushing away for a while. I think I’m going to write my dad a letter tonight when I get home, and send him some pictures to go with it.
Give please. Always be nice to those younger than you, because they are the ones who will be writing about you.
I am from San and also now’m speaking English, give please true I wrote the following sentence: “Fleas can be a major problem for dogs and dog owners.Vacation guides, travel articles, hotel recommendations, and deals.”
😛 Thanks in advance. Dale.
hey i love this poem this is so nice
I find these poems to be so moving and sadly too true with the way that healthcare workers sometimes look at our elderly population. I was first introduced this poem as a student in nursing school. Prior to becoming a nurse I worked as a nurses aide, and had a special soft spot for the elderly, as I still do to this day.
i nursed terminally ill patients mostly elderly on a nursing unit..and we had these poems in frames in our nursing units, i wrote them down and wrote them out for myself and now i have them at home on my wall.. i loved my work and i met some wonderfull patients who i looked after until they passed away i have some wonderfull memories.. i spent a lot of time with them getting to know them talking about the old days with them and they told me about what they did when they were younger and they appreciated the time i had to sit and talk a while..memories which i will keep with me forever. we had some laughs and some tears along the way.. i will remember them fondly with a smile in my heart..
Don’t worry about old age, it doesn’t last very long.
Joe, let me ask just how old you are!! Old age is individually defined, yet from the many people older than me I have seen how long it can last. Even one year of being dependent can feel like a lifetime since it usually means you are unable to care for yourself. I applaude you for saying it doesn’t last long yet question if you ever thought about it!
I see it has been a while since you commented on my blog. You are the kind of person the world needs more of!! After much thought about me, I now can say I enjoy being a care giver. A nurse or care giver can change someone’s day entirely. Thank you for your note.
I herd the old woman one but believe it’s a copy of the old mans one, I say that because his prose is more professional and writing style more engaging. Interesting all the same I am sure one day we will find the original author.
The original poem, “Crabbit Old Woman,” isn’t anonymous and wasn’t written by an old woman. It was written in 1966 by Phyllis McCormack, a Scottish nurse, for her hospital newsletter. It’s been republished without attribution ever since and the story about it being found in a dead person’s belongings was added somewhere along the way.
There is a short article on Wikipedia if you want to look it up.
I hope you’ll edit your page to give proper attribution to the original author. Thanks!
Mary, I have edited my page giving the new information to the ready and supplied new internet sites for them to use if they question the authors.
Hey there, my name’s Millie and I sometimes blog about this subject too. Actually, if I may, let me ask you something.. Is it just me or does it look as if a bunch of the comments seem like they are coming out of a bunch of idiots? 😛 And, if you are publishing on more social sites like web 2.0 site list, I hope to keep up to date with you. Perhaps you could post a few links to any of them?
Millie, currently I do not write on this blog, but since it was a long exploration for me I leave it up. Comments are comments and yes on this particular poem I have received some winners. I currently have a different blog that combined this one and two others that I had. You may be interested in visiting it at: suntithenai.wordpress.com I am not on a site like 2.0 now. Thanks for your comment and your read. Frank