BAKSHEESH
(For the Flin Flon Writers guild)
When I was a little girl, with limited vocabulary,
A neighbour asked me an errand to run, not for free
But I would get a baksheesh when it was done,
I wondered if mom would allow the prize I’d won.

I was not allowed to do a good deed and get paid,
For it was the Christian thing to do, to give free aid,
I had to go to his allotment, water everything there,
Then hurry back with a bunch of his flowers so fair.

I ran home the fields way with the flowers held high,
It saved at least five minutes and my legs seemed to fly
For I was wondering what a baksheesh could really be,
And would both my parents let it come home with me?

Our neighbour grinned with delight as I came his way,
He put his hand in his pocket on that hot summer day
And gave me a whole lot of money, then I nearly cried,
For my disappointment I really found hard to try and hide.

“Where the baksheesh?” I said with a voice soft and low,
The man laughed quite hard, I thought ignorance did show,
Told me to look in the dictionary and it’s meaning learn,
What worried me most was how the money I did earn.

Granny could not spell it and nor at that age could I,
I dare not ask my parents for they would want to know why
And I’d worked hard for the baksheesh so I hid it away,
They were surprised how much I’d saved for our holiday.

(Millicent) Ann Margetson 21 March 2004