This is the story of Amanda McPhee,
A girl who was often seen having a pee,
For she pissed in the road and she peed in the street,
And it ruined her shoes and wet both her feet.
Her mother said, Mandy, please use the convenience,
We can no longer rely on municipal lenience,
Please go to the ladies when you feel that old urge,
Don’t stand in the road and let it go splurge.
But Amanda said, Mummy, don’t be so elite,
It’s perfectly trendy to pee in the street,
It’s best from the porch step but the window will do,
Thank god, said her father, it’s not number two.
The mayor he visited, said, girl it must end,
Your public performance has me right round the bend,
So please, girl, to stop it, today without fail,
Or else I will throw you in Stockport’s old jail.
So she tried to be modest, but alas, folks, she missed,
And at the Lord Mayor’s Gala, Amanda, she pissed,
She sprinkled the vicar and a visiting priest,
And all their grand ladies till she finally ceased.
And she grinned rather sheepish and bowed from the middle,
Said, don’t be so fussy, it’s only warm piddle,
So they clapped her in irons and threw her in’t sea,
And that was the end of Amanda McPhee.