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.