MY SISTER'S HAT

My sister calls this thing a hat,
So chic, and oh so stunning!
You'd never get this thing on me,
Unless you did some running!

"This feather is the latest rage,
It truly makes the hat."
But honest folks, my old pet hen,
Has prettier one than that.

She wouldn't go to church, she said,
Unless she had a new one,
If she couldn't have this awful thing
Her Easter would be ruined.

Now she's eighteen, and I am twelve,
And she says I'm awful dumb,
Now I may not be too awful smart,
But I've got more brains than some.

She thought her beauty was complete,
From top of her head to soul of her feet,
But vain was she, and couldn't see,
That beauty comes from being sweet.

For I have learned what Easter is,
And I'd like to have you hear it,
It's not the clothes a person wears,
It's the Blessed Easter Spirit.

                           AUTHOR: Margaret Shankland