JUST HALF OF THAT, PLEASE

Grandmother says when I pass her the cake:

“Just half of that, please.”

If I serve her the tenderest portion of steak:

“Just half of that, please.”

And be the dessert a rice pudding or pie,

As I pass Grandma's share she is sure to reply,

With the trace of a twinkle to light up her eye:

“Just half of that, please.”

I've cut down her portions but still she tells me:

“Just half of that, please.”

Though scarcely a mouthful of food she can see:

“Just half of that, please.”

If I pass her the chocolates she breaks one in two,

There's nothing so small but a smaller will do,

And she says, perhaps fearing she's taking from you:

“Just half of that, please.”

When at last Grandma leaves us the angels will hear:

“Just half of that, please.”

When with joys for the gentle and brave they appear:

“Just half of that, please.”

And for fear they may think she is selfish up there,

Or is taking what may be a young angel's share,

She will say with the loveliest smile she can wear:

“Just half of that, please.”