The Death Of Enid Brown

When I was just a girl,
My Mother said to me:
'Stop eating cake and make friends Enid!'
But I was so shy you see.

In the year I became ten,
My Father did declare:
'Your purpose is the production of babies'.
I preferred a chocolate éclair…

I didn't like to go to school,
For I didn't like to talk.
The other girls danced and giggled, I'd
Sit and nibble chalk.

When I turned twelve,
Reginald Bell kissed me 'pon the cheek!
I bit my tongue, sweated profusely
And hid in the cupboard for a week… (with some cake…)

Matron thought my shyness contrary
(I noticed Matron's bosom was hairy?)
The teachers told me I'd have to change,
Or I'd never marry, because I was strange,
Quiet and shy… my skin was quite dry…
Not quite the type to snaffle a husband,
More likely a spinster with fuzz, and
A hair on her chin, rotten teeth,
Urinates freely, smells of roast beef…

All because I was shy!
(If a little fat?)
And so thought I…
If Enid Brown has no redeeming features,
The answer must be for Enid Brown,
To fall in a lake and be eaten by leeches.

To return to the world with a brand new name…
And a job! Yes, a job,
But gawd lummy nothing plain!
'A plain job for plain Enid' everybody would quip,
And that's how I knew,
No longer Enid but 'Stella Plumes'
And Stella… Stella would strip….