There was an old lady of Gold,
Who grabbed hold of a boulder and rolled;
There’s no stopping her,
Still goes by in a blur,
That rolling old lady of Gold.
There is a young person of Oz,
Who gives life to whatever she draws;
That’s why it’s a mess,
Those poor creatures, God bless,
That artistic young person of Oz.
There was a young lady of Crumb,
Who ruled her own tiny kingdom;
Queen of the bath,
If you incurred her wrath,
Then down the drain and exile from Crumb.