Dour Lunch Lady!

plop.

What's behind the lunch line counter, Frown set deep, with eyebrows low? Never grins, never giggles, Got a frown that just won't go?

plop.

Tell a joke — she doesn't laugh. Pull a face — she stays the same. Stone-cold serious, gloomy gray, A frown is her whole game!

DOUR! Dow-er! Stern and gray and grim! DOUR! Dow-er! No smile within her, brim to brim!

plop plop.

What scoops the peas without a word, And eyes you, flat and cool? The most unsmiling, solemn face In the whole entire school?

DOUR! Dow-er! Stern and gray and grim! DOUR! Dow-er! No smile within her, brim to brim!

plop.

Then a tiny kid said, "I like your hairnet."

And she...

smiled.

One. Tiny. Smile.

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