Have you seen the old hag in rags
Mumbling nonsense in the town square?
Her odor so pungent, even flies gag,
A Medusa who petrifies with her stare.

Her name unknown, her story a secret,
The butcher claims she’s God incognito
Here to see if we aid those who need it,
Though doubtful, such torture He’d veto.

Gossip circulates the town at every corner,
But I know the truth of this old woman.
It turns out she’s the Duchess of Arbor
Who gave it all away to the poorest children.

The fools are quick to judgement impart,
But there’s an occulted truth in every heart.