Mother’s Clarine call sounded over the farm,

If you didn’t answer in double quick time,

 dinner was on the line,

Mother being a clever woman,

Believed  in economics  while listening to the stories,

I would find myself setting the table,

Or helping make a pudding,

 Maybe Mother arranged it with the radio station,

Story time on the radio aired at five o’clock, 

Education was some thing Mother believed in too

Killing two birds with one stone,

Was something Mother liked to do. 

Usually there were  three or four short stories,

the Lone Ranger (Hi ho Silver)

Black Beauty, Bad Jelly the Witch,

There were many others besides,

Came on air with great regularity

These I could take or leave,

There were four I really could listen to,

Again and again, and again.

The Littlest Angel,Ferdinand The Bull,

Lambert the Sheepish Lion,

And  The Golden Palomino,

Each had a moral that could not be mistaken.

What may look shabby to others,

God can turn into something beautiful,

Just because it is suppose to be mean,

Does not mean that’s its true nature.

Don’t look down on some one who is different,

Their difference may save some ones life some day,

Wild animals might not be tamed,

But even they know who to trust,

When the chips are down.