Chocolate cupcakes and crumpets for tea.
My mother says clean up for my company.
‘Cause Mary Jane’s mother has called to inquire
If Mary Jane Lee can come play by our fire.
Mary Jane Lee has good manners and curls
And makes over grown-ups unlike other girls.
And spends all her time doing everything right.
Why can’t she be like me, a bit impolite?
I’ll be so disagreeable, Mary Jane Lee
Won’t ever come back to do playtime with me.
“Hush, ” says my mother. “Young ladies should be
Always polite to their nice company.”
But why won’t she listen? I’m mad as can be.
Why is my mother so angry with me?
Hickory Pickory, Fiddle-dee-dee.
It’s all the fault of that Mary Jane Lee.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I like this Jo! A big Fat 10!