The good widow Rachael

As you may gather, Schmoes Diner (that is without the apostrophe because that is the way his sign is writ), is the focal point in our neck of the woods out here since the municipal yard just has one shed with no heat. Anyhow, Schmoe has a bulletin board by the door which is used mostly for buy and sell stuff and major notifications. So, one fine morning there was this poem tacked up. It had no title but it didn't really matter as everyone buzzed around cracking up in merriment. The speculation was that one of the local wives had become a trifle vengeful and had taken to heart the saying that the pen was mightier than the sword. This is what the wrathful one had writ:

There was a nice lady who lived on a farm

She raised chickens and pigs with elegance and charm

Had a big garden and fruit bushes too

And big fuzzy cats who meant no one harm

And on her wee farm she had a wee still

In a wee shed at the bottom of the hill

She had three husbands all buried in a row

They all died most blissfully from drinking her swill

She talked with droll umbras when she was want for enthrall

About life in the Orient and high in Nepal

She knew all the vices of wise men she'd desiderate

In her journeys to remote places she had quite the ball

She'd been on a space ship that took her to Mars

Always been enraptured since visiting the stars

They'd taught her of magics and premises disquisitive

And showed her their wonders in macrocosmic bars

Her dress it was ornate as was her thought

And she bamboozled her neighbours with tales well wrought

Wives would find broomsticks to beat their behinds

When husbands were tempted to have a small drought

There was a nice lady who lived on a farm

It's a mystery to fathom her gracious good charm

So good luck to you weasels if she finds you enthralling

Best wax as inscrutable and head for your barn

Just as everyone was settling down a bit in walks no one other than the good widow Rachael herself. Of course she has to stop by the pin board to read the latest and there is definitely a hush in the atmosphere. Well, composure being a trait of elegance and charm, she simply sits herself down and asks Joe how his kids are doing. Everyone thought maybe she hadn't bothered to read the little poem so the place got to humming with our local gossip again. Later on after the good widow Rachael had made her way on, someone eyed a new little line at the bottom of that vengeful lyric and everyone gathered to read  “cause she just loves a dare.”

Try to keep that pot covered,eh.