She wore a pitch black suit
And smelled of lilacs and fruit.
Clad in long stemmed heels,
Her cream coloured blouse so sheer,
She spoke of stocks and bills,
A fancy phone pressed to her ear.
But the road on which she walked
Had a very tiny bump.
If only she had known to jump,
She wouldn't have tripped and slipped
And become a laughing stock.
But she was on the phone,
How could she have known?