It was Donna Darling’s annual dinner party A Cotillion approved eatery Six spoons and six forks The wrong one, and all the glares one bore And then waddled in Miss Pillsbury Her stumpy feet too short to Do anything but waddle Uninvited she was As she always was Squelching her way through the narrow doorway. As fourteen perfectly styled heads Shuffled their feet under the table.
Boom! Clash! Six spoons crashing Six forks attacking Poor old lady Judith’s knee As she groaned in pain. Donna scratching her head Eyes darting through her invite list Top-to-bottom, Top-to-bottom Screech! Went the chair, Scratching Donnas hand polished marble floors Like nails on a chalkboard.
Oh, and what she did next, Almost sent Donna to her upstairs bedroom To pop some unprescribed ****** As the stout woman grabbed soup with her chubby hands And started gulping it down Before it ran through her fingers.
Frazzled Donna tried, oh she tried To salvage the integrity Of her fancy dinner party Unfortunately, at the moment it was running down the table From Miss Pillsbury’s double chin. Swooosh! Went old lady Judith As she skated across the marble Like an Olympic figure skater Only to crash into Donna’s perfectly organized stainless steel kitchenware.
Donna ran out screaming and crying Nobody’s seen her since. And as for Miss Pillsbury, I’d be surprised if she noticed any of it