One day, in a haste and so weary from toil,
I freshened my face with geranium oil.
How sweet, the aroma of that lovely flower!
But, it ain't so dainty, in rank of its power.

It's note is a high one; no subtle, earth scent;
Perfume bloomed around me wherever I went.
'Eww!' cried my daughter, 'You've stunk the whole place!'
She muttered, 'Geranimom,' making a face.

Then, this seemed quite funny; we laughed! The name stuck.
It suits my 'geranimal' blend of pot-luck.
I'm never real proper, no hybrid high-bred;
I'm mixed potpourri -- like the words in my head!

For, I know -- 'pelargonium' is the real name;
But, would it be proper, if I said the same?
'Geranium' -- that' what Geranimom wears;
But only, of course, when she's PUTTIN' ON AIRS!

This is a very old re-re-rerun. But today I changed my user name back to geranimom (from Moons-Ago Tunes) so that made me look for this picture and poem.