Penelope Calliope
in her eccentricity
Sat each day at half past three
to take her cup of unsweet tea

The rooster in the morn
would be her only scorn
itching in the wool she'd worn
until all the sheep were shorn

Eggs in a basket
and a basket for a dime
All would be collected
in the summertime

This was to her a heaven
grander than the city life
Yes it had its aches and pains
but so very little strife

Here the stars could see her
and she could see them too
Nobody was ever bored here
without a thing to do

People played their politics somewhere
and practiced religion week by week
but Penelope was truly the queen
living here in her kingdom meek