There once was a good man called Fry
Who wanted his friend not to die.
He told her to wait,
Walked straight out the gate,
With no bloody map, just a tie.
There was a sweet boy that I knew
Whose friends were incredibly few.
Strange thoughts filled his head
So he went to the shed
And hung till his red lips turned blue.
There once was a nun with a wimple
Who told me that waiting was simple
Just write in your book—
– The Love Song of Miss Queenie Hennessy
