There was an old dame

Who lived up in Maine

She thought she was such a queen

She took from your living

Demanded your giving

To her every whim and dream

She said she knew best

Ignored the protest

She failed every test

A lie was her quest

Her budget was lacking

The bills were all stacking

She knew she must find a way

To cover the shortfall

She looked for a windfall

Quixote had windmills to slay

She cried with all zest

“Go hide in your nest!

You are all blest

That I know what’s best!”

She said, “There is sickness!

Through city, through wildness.

Oh terrors! Oh, dread this could be!”

“Lets make matters worse

And empty your purse!

I need some more money, you see!”

To claim a disaster

We cover and plaster

We silence and master

With fear climbing faster

Its royal deceit

A theft! No receipt

We see through the veil

A sham old and pale

To bow us to fiefdom

And take all our freedom

History warned us

Will history scorn us?

There was an old dame

Who crushed all of Maine

To cover her plot and scheme

by Andy Torbett