I used to check with her on matters of spelling, grammar, or the best way to phrase something. She was always willing to stop what she was doing and try to think of just the right word, or to listen to an article, or poem, or other original work so as to offer praise and constructive criticism.
She loved doing crossword puzzles and other word games, and cut many cartoons out of the newspaper to save to show others. In fact, she would cut out anything she thought would be of interest to someone she knew in order to show it to them.
In any case, here is that poem, as best as I can remember it. (It should, of course, be recited with a scottish or irish accent.) If you know the author, or can correct my memory of it, please let me know.
I went to Paddy's house,
Paddy was not home.
Paddy'd gone to my house
to steal the marrow bone.
So I went back to Paddy's house,
where Paddy lay in bed,
and there I took that marrow bone,
and hit him on the head!