Hobbling home with a tartan trolley of groceries,
the sun sank, leaving fiery streaks across the sky.
The old lady headed downhill to the lower side
when she came face to face with Cerberus,
his three heads growling and snarling.
Och! Not you agin! she snapped back
and rolled up her sleeves to ready herself.
She yelled for him to let her pass but his heads shook
and he thundered toward her.
His huge size caused Mr McGregor's clay flower pots
to tremble off the sill then smash to the ground.
She took shelter between some rosemary bushes,
her bladder weakening but with enough rage
to snap the arms of her spectacles off.
Adrenalin pumped through her arthritic limbs.
Thank ye Lord for support stockings.
She smelt his impending approach and gritted her dentures,
determined to reach the lower side
where an easy recliner would welcome her home.
She flicked a grey lock from her forehead as Cerberus advanced.
The evening shift of bees hovered as she repeatedly prayed,
Where’er we seek him, he is found,
And every place is hallowed ground
Cerberus plunged into the buzzing rosemary
slathering, drooling, tail wagging.
She leapt up, brandishing the broken arms
and stabbed fiercely at his eyes
while droves of retiring bees gave the alert and launched an attack.
Take that ye filthy animal! Keep me from going doonhill will ye?
Cerberus yelped and staggered up the road, beestung and gouged,
shaking his three heads like a rabid beast.
She smoothed her tweed skirt, patted her set hair
then fixed her newly made pince-nez onto her nose.
She passed the broken pots and headed further down
till finally, she reached the familiar gate,
where inside she knew an eternal fire was burning.
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but, I don't get the last line tho. 
