This poem was written by my great-grandma Anna Johnson. I have never met her (I wasn't alive when she was) But I have some old pictures (well not the originals, just copies). She wrote quite a few poems. Here is one called...
The Elf man of my soulThere is a tricky little fellow
That lives within myself
However hard I wish or try
To keep him on his shelf
He always finds it pleasant fun
To come a-peeping forth
To dance and slide and frolic
On the strings around my heart.
He's the tricky little rascal
That can make me feel so blue
And whip the billows of my soul
To angry foaming too.
He laughs when I'm unhappy.
And cries when I am glad.
He's a tricky little fellow
Who likes to see me sad.
A.J.