Are we sure that she isn’t his daughter? One can see why no husband has bought her There’s no semblance of styleHer frame doesn’t beguileAnd no basics of make up were taught her
More disgusting grub’s not been invented//And the makers have never relented//Flat, tasteless, and dry//It should make a child cry//Those who eat them are surely demented!
Onstage, such a tribute’s exciting/But here it appears very frightening/they are beautiful blooms/with enticing perfume/but a large insect’s on it alighting!
No one knows what’s beneath her chapeau/Maybe eggs, a dozen or so/For she’s planning to bake/a poisonous cake/that will put an end to her beau.
Her expression is vapid and slow/one can tell she is far from aglow/ for her wedding band’s gold,/ but her bridegroom is cold/ And that hat is the star of the show.
He’s so old, it was safe to expect/He would show her a little respect/Though he might call her toots,/he won’t handle the goods/It could never remain erect.
There’s a problem most women can see//That child’s panties are loaded with pee//She needs to be changed//Mother’s clothes rearranged//Then the squirminess quickly will cease!
Are we sure that she isn’t his daughter? One can see why no husband has bought her There’s no semblance of styleHer frame doesn’t beguileAnd no basics of make up were taught her