She was a spicy little act with strawberry hair.
Her presence in the town was one that none could bear.
So they enticed her, and enticed her,
Until they had sufficed her
And once they had priced her
They brought her to their lair.
They put her in a coffin without any air.
She was throwing fits in there.
So they sliced her, and they sliced her,
And they put her through a dicer,
And they steamed her in a ricer,
And then removed most of the hair.
The price of steamed Patty
was a cost that none could fare.
A portion was for sale at vendors everywhere.
They baked her in a pie-shell and served it to the Meister
He clicked his pointy tongue and gave her a little pie-stir.
He was known about town as a legendary rhymester.
He said that Patty was ratty
but would taste much better rare.