Small Stuff

There once was a girl called Anthia McColl,
Who people didn’t notice, because she was small,
She lived in a shoebox and sat on a thimble,
And worked as a seamstress because she was nimble.

But poor Anthia’s life was so lonesome and blue,
As she worked through the night with her needle and her glue,
She was too small for friends and too small for a pet,
(She was swallowed by a poodle who had to be taken to a vet,

Who stuck tweezers down its throat to fish out our girl,
Who came up spluttering and in quite a twirl,)
And she said to her mother and her old Aunty Vera
From now on I never shall go near a

Dog or a cat or a goldfish bowl
And I’ll work all day long to save my poor soul.
And her candle can be seen quite late at night,
As she sews and she sews till the early morning light,

She’s saving up to buy a chair, a pearly comb and a ribbon for her hair,
And roof made of tin, to keep the rain out and her loneliness in,
But it won’t be forever, folks, there’s a happy end in sight,
For a tiny prince came by her place, one rainy Wednesday night,

And he knocked on her door, said “Is this Pizza Hut?”
And she snapped “No, it ain’t!” and was going to slam it shut,
When he suddenly said, “Why, you’re little, just like me,
Bigger than a gnat but no taller than a bee.”

And she blushed like a damsel in fairy tale of old,
“Oh, sir, I greatly fear that you are very bold,
But I have to admit that you are a great relief,
From these normal-sized boys and their bloody great feet.”

And they laughed and they talked through the blossom-scented night,
And when the morning dawned they looked around in fright,
“Do you have to go now?” she said, with a tremor in her voice.
“We can both go together. We do have that choice.”

So they left on his horse, it was a clockwork toy,
And they rode off together, one happy girl and boy.

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Filed under comic verse, humorous verse, Nonsense verse

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