Ruth Cox

We need another Ruth Cox,
With her little bright pin-box
Going from door to door
Collecting for the poor.

Did someone pass away,
And the bills, you can’t pay?
Did your house burn,
Leaving you nowhere to turn.

In her little house and museum
A New England history coliseum,
She lived with her prose,
Poems she would compose.

But when a neighbor passed away
Or someone’s luck went astray,
Miss Cox would travel around,
Sharing charity in our town.

We need a Ruth Cox,
Bills and coins in her box,
Stopping at every door;
Blessings for the poor.