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Poem	Three widows of the Middle West We're grimly chewing gum; The Lido chef a quail had dressed With garlic and with rum, And they were painfully oppressed For they had eaten some. Said One: "This famed El Greco guy Gives me the blessed pip; Them Saints look like they want to die - Let's give our guide the slip, And in some bodega close by A glass of vino sip." Said Two: "It's this Cathedral stuff That fairly gets me down. I think one church is quite enough In any Spanish town; But here there's four - that's pretty tough No matter their renown." Said Three: "It's that Alcázar show That simply knocked me out; That dismal dungeon down below, Then ruins all about; That funny, fat old Moscardo Who put the Reds to rout." Hey, Mister Guide! implored the Three, "Return to gay Madrid." The guide was shocked, but trained was he To do as he was bid. So three dames of the Middle West, Dyspeptically glum Went back to town, and quite depressed The guide was chewing gum.
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