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!
Only one of them looks as though//She ever had something to show//Are they reliving bliss?// recalling a kiss?// or ready to give it a go?
They say it’s like riding a bike//Lots more fun than taking a hike//Muscle memory remains// Through the old aches and pains//When it’s something you know you would like.//
I’d like to think so.