Miss Ann Is Still Unpaid
You haven’t Miss Ann paid
That which workers aid
And for which contracts are made.
Miss Ann, still unpaid,
Is, till date, Your Best Maid,
Her stewardship of High Grade
Errands running, unafraid.
Your fame might just fade
With Ann left unpaid
And for the nothing you’ve said
Into a scandal wade;
Bleeding with a blade
A Lady for wages prayed
And a trust laid.
So, torture thou not Ann:
To everybody, a fan;
A most seasoned cook
You never her dishes forsook.
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