(start snapping fingers to a steady, beatnik beat)

What do you see when you look at me,
Your mother, gran'ma, sister, or auntie?
Well, that may be, but if that's all you see,
Let's talk a little philosophy.

CHORUS: The wrinkles are art,
I've got a big heart
I'm a crone, not prone to Being invisible.

What do you see when you look at me
part of an Invisible Minorit/y?
a statistic, simplistic, non-entity?
Or, someone living with dignity?

I've got a voice, opinions, and that is power
The older I get, the less I cower.
speaking my mind is true liberation, I find
And I am welcoming the crone

CHORUS: The wattle is art,
I've got a big heart,
I'm a crone, not prone To being invisible.

I've got 3 chin hairs
And it's hard climbing stairs
But I'm here, you hear,
So, look at my personality.
Or do you think age is a liability?

CHORUS: The crow's feet are art,
It's parcel and part, of a crone, not prone
To being invisible.

If I look invisible to you,
You must be blind,
Cause you can't see,
A person trying to live with mutual respectability.
Aging is a gift, a privilege that uplift
And I am welcoming the crone.


Scat singing to rhythmic beat and then segueing into a hauntingly, beautiful and melodic song