There was a middle aged woman,
Who lived alone in a flat,
Abode described as cosey and comfy,
Deciding should she get a cat.
No children to cloth and feed,
She had a disposable income,
To buy a weekly supply of alcohol,
Her favourite tipple Morgan Rum.
She had finally met Mr Wright,
And was no longer by herself,
With polish in hand dusting away,
Remnants of her off the shelf.
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