Thirteen respectable spinsters
Of the respectable town of Murch,
Gave a very respectable party
For their eminent orthodox church.
On a green and grassy pasture
By the side of the River Runch
They sat with the Reverend Quondam
And partook of a dainty lunch.
None could have said they were pretty,
Not even those in the "know,"
Yet no one denied in the city
That their names were as white as the snow.
And just at the moment of eating
The breast of a tender chicken,
The Reverend Quondam observed
The grey skies overhead thicken.
Within a neighboring farmhouse
He betook his respectable form,
Accompanied by all of the ladies
In deadly fear of the storm.
Then lightning came and the thunder
Like the crashing of seventeen earths,
And in that respectable party
Occurred three premature births.