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Aunt Beatie was a sweetie, God bless her soul,
Well over ninety, that's not very old;
For a spunky lady with a will to survive,
It might be just in my mind, but she's still alive.
Now, she lived in a one bedroom house on a hill,
Just a quarter of a mile from my dad's sawmill,
Where she gathered scrap wood for the old Franklin stove;
And every day she walked to and from Butchers Cove.
Many times she walked through our village each day,
And when she heard town gossip she had nothing to say;
There was a church in her front yard, and the Felthams next door,
And she did all her shopping at John Noble's store.
Aunt Beatie was a sweetie, God bless her soul,
Well over ninety, that's not very old;
For a spunky sweet lady with a will to survive,
It might be just in my mind but she's still alive.
Now, the axe and the bucksaw she used like a pro,
To cut the firewood and keep out the cold;
She was ready for winter by late in the fall,
There was a picture of Joey on her kitchen wall.
Now, some man named Jack came 'round one time,
And for the rest of her life he stayed on her mind;
But she lived all alone long before I was born,
I thought she'd be alive when we're all dead and gone.
There's a one bedroom house empty in Dover,
And her living alone days are all over;
She was with us for a century, and a month or so,
Aunt Beatie was a sweetie, God rest her soul.
Aunt Beatie was a sweetie, God rest her soul,
Well over ninety, that's not very old;
For a spunky sweet lady with a will to survive,
It might be just in my mind but she's still alive.
It might be just in my mind but she's still alive.
