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#39- "The Librarian"
The Librarian was quite one to see,
As she doubled over on her bent knee
To pick up from the floor a stray, lone book.
Not a one dared give her a second look.
Her dress was impeccably neat and clean,
Those who disagree get a look so mean.
Her hair was done up in a strict, thick plait,
A coiled whip set to strike. She em'nates
A feeling not unlike a bird of prey.
Her hawk's eye glare would make anyone say,
"I did not do it! I did not a thing
To deserve your wrath!" And still she would sing
Out a sentence for their imagined sin.
Who would dare not urn her fav'rite book in?
Her high screechy voice shrieks with a vengeance,
And her high cheekbones preach with no-nonsense.
Her emaciated frame seemed to tell
Of all the stress that was caused by her yell.
Her beady eyes stared straight into your heart.
When you noticed, you would jump with a start.
Her beak-like nose led her to where she went.
With her clicking heels the silence she'd dent.
That "Shh!" she used to keep the peace in here
Is reminiscent of my mother dear.
So if you dare cross the Librarian,
Beware not to do her fav'rite books in.
