You Will Leave
There once was a fruitcake named Onk
by Herbert Nehrlich
who sat in the loo at St. Bonk.
Where she farted and shat
on the bishop's own mat
they declared her a smelly old donk.
She had been from the premises chased.
And her memory duly erased
she's both chicken and shit
with no obvious tit
and on septic cadaver she's based.
If she stays I will ring her dumb bell
as she is but an empty old shell
will send her to heaven
thye will scatter her straight down to hell.