Mathilda a t the age of twelve

into her mother's purse did delve;

acquiring thus a taste for silver

thenceforth wouldn't cease to pilfer.

At first it seemed she would content

herself with trifles she could spend

and pinching pennies while at mass

But were it only so - Alas!

This hunger would not satisfy

itself with stuff mere coins could buy

and so from bangles, jasp and rings

her craving turned to extraordinary things.

The other day, upon a bench

our wee Mathilda spied a wench,

a lacy garment 'neash her sash...

she had those bloomers in a flash,

and, feeling peckish, didn't flinch

from nabbing just the middle inch

of sausage that the good girl ate

When, passing then, she spied the pate

of a gentlefellow who,

advanced in age, posessed so few

hairs thereupon for insulation

he'd donned a quiff ('twas imitation)

Poor old chap! He never twigged!

So slyly had he been hoodwigged!

And just to cap off these adventures

Mathilda gleaned his set of dentures.

What earthly good will come of this

I cannot say: 'Tis most amiss

to magpie trinkets from good folk.

(I'm sure for them it is no joke.)

But what is this? Oh merry May!

While naughty her was hard at play

right through that vernal garden crept

a twisting wind so strong it swept

Mathilda right up off her feet!

Above the trees, across the street!

That wind! It stole her quite away!

(I always knew some day she'd pay.)

It spun her 'round and 'round until

she cried in tears "I've had my fill!

Your spinny ways have me instructed

it's just not nice to be abducted!

Now I know how quite alone a

thing must feel far from its owner!"

No sooner said, her hair all tangled,

she slipped from where she had tangled

and plopped down in a greasy ditch.

(A just dessert; the little witch!)