Lovely Rita meter made.
A poetess of no renown.
On land or sea, in sun or shade
She thunk 'em up and plunk 'em down.

By Humber bank her merry muse
Was happy in its little way
Until at last from bank of Ouse
On Fardles Bear she rode away.

And now I miss her by a mile,
like fission chips and Fairy Nuff.
I keep her poems in a pile
And never read the bloody stuff.