Grundy fell for Petunia on a Monday:
Wooed her, but the shy girl said not a word;
Tuesday he swore he would marry her one day,
Or end his woes by falling on his sword;
Wednesday she told him of her father's curse:
The witch, the cabbage, the whole stack of bricks;
By Thursday he'd put the hag in a hearse
And broken her enchantments like dry sticks;
On Friday she picked out her bridal dress,
And sent announcements to her closest friends;
But Saturday young Grundy felt much less
Like settling down, and so our story ends:
Sunday Petunia hanged herself from grief,
And Grundy snuck off silent, like a thief.
1 comment:
Just like a man.
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