Bells rang in the forscene,
But I was young and small,
Crumpled in a ruffled dress,
Barbie high heels, yet not tall,
Bleached blond hair flopped to
every side,
stood up in places and parted
down the front line.
My best friend Catherine,
Skipped away hand in hand from the Holyplace.
Two old ladies chatted in
The meeting hall,
Not wanting to leave their beloved call,
Everything was pure,
The world was so squeaky clean,
For a four-year-old like me.
I skipped crookedly
‘cause my Mama told me to say hi,
To the old ladies dressed in dresses and I told’em,
“I’m four-and-a-half-years-old,”
But knowing my lisp, and
My missing front teeth,
The ladies giggled, and smiled, and spoke kindly,
“Good for you!”