Angelina Semolina, thought she was a ballerina,
Pirouetted, quite unvetted, in her mother's blue Corvetted.
Stop this dance of circumstance, Mother yelled from South of France,
Stop the ballet, get a valet, and fix my car, you naughty palley.
But Angelina Semolina, said I am the ballerina,
Dance Pavlova Bossanova, with my lover, Casanova.
Not a chance, you imp of prance, said her mother, back from France,
Remove those pumps, you kid of lumps, ah, that's got you in the dumps.
So Angelina Semolina, killed her mother, Clementina,
Dumped her body in the lobby, seems that murder was her hobby.
Copyright © Max Scratchmann. All Rights Reserved