There was an old lady who’d swat not a fly,
And I know why she’d swat not that fly:
Eyes on her spy.

There was an old lady who had deep inside ’er
A simpering son; she’s a whimper derider.
Though he was inside, off the handle she’d fly,
And I know why off of it she’d fly:
She’s polar, bi-.

There was an old lady who’d eat like a bird
Stuffed by her worthless son—that’s absurd!
No swallows, no GERD, because inside ’er
The hollowed intestines were shriveled dry.
Mommy’s a mummy; son made her die:
He’s polar, bi-.

There was an old lady who’d shot not a gat
’cause a gat wasn’t where she’s at.
She’d shot not a gat at pretty birds,
By “birds” I mean girls that don’t delight ’er;
What don’t delight ’er is going to die
By a knife; gats didn’t catch her eye:
A shiv she’d ply.

There was an old lady who was in a fog,
Brain-befogged as Norm, called a dog.
She called him a “dog,” though not a “rat”;
She said he’s a “brat” when he’d averred
She would be “interred”; he’d have to hide ’er
Down with the spiders, so no one could spy,
Such as the guy with curious eye
Who had to die.

There was an old lady dressed like a Hausfrau;
This crazed Hausfrau belonged in hoosegow.
Dressed as a Hausfrau, she went agog,
But when agog she had not a gat
She didn’t use that to slay the birds.
She was quite disturbed; came time to hide ’er.
After they’d hide ’er, then prying psych eyes
Watching who’d sliced up gals and a guy.
What’s her reply?

There was an old lady who followed this course,
In voice that’s hoarse,
With no remorse:
Blame Norm, of course!