Mrs. A is throwing stones,
Mrs. B is looking;
Mrs. C tells dreadful tales of
Mrs. D’s foul cooking.
Mrs. E says young Miss F’s
No better than she should be.
Mrs. G says she should know -
She’s Mr. H’s floozy.
Sad Miss I is very prim;
Sour Miss J knows why
And tells Miss K in confidence
(she wouldn’t tell a lie)
That years ago she had a child
By batty Mr. M,
“But don’t you tell another soul,
Except your Mrs. N.”
Her Mrs. N told Mrs. O,
Who quietly told Miss P,
Who told Miss Q and Mrs. R,
But not Miss S or T.
For they were really not quite nice,
Miss S dressed like a man,
Smoked and swore and other things;
There ought to be a ban.
And that Miss T who lives with her
Is really just as queer -
Mrs. U told Mrs. V
She saw her drinking beer.
Of course it’s Mrs. W
Who really makes them cross;
In all the local junketings
She always acts the boss.
Mrs. X keeps to herself,
Is hardly ever seen;
With seven kids she’s just a slut -
Although her washing’s clean.
Mrs. Y says Mrs. Z
Is really very odd;
She tells no tales about her friends
And still believes in God.
(post
April, 1977)
