A-walking in Blatherly Woods one fine day
And lo to my start and surprise
Many a lady in finest array
Each plotting somebody’s demise
Now I’d heard the rumors that fluttered about
Of spinsters who gathered in woods
Some saw them as evil, still others would doubt
So I’d gone there to dig up the goods
Supping on tea cakes and Mulligan stew
On bottomless glasses of wine
They seemed so angelic the talk must be true
Their unmasking to all would be mine
I scarce had a chance to take in the sight
Before they turned ’round as a group
Then baring their teeth all in girlish delight
I knew I was deep in the soup
Retrieving me there from the edge of the yew
They gathered around me and then
They fed me on cakes and they fed me on stew
And relieved me of paper and pen
But I am a stalwart, a journalist true
Not one to be thwarted with ease
I’d easily outsmart this harridan crew
Despite all their feigning to please
I spoke with Miss Martha, both burly and stout
Who, no doubt, could snap my neck clean
Fear not, gentle readers, my wits were about
With me she’d not get such a scene
The meek Miss Eugenie waxed earnest and pure
Her subject, the tatting of lace
A code for the others, I knew it for sure
They would plan my demise to my face
“Oh, do try the peppermint aspic,” said they
But I wasn’t fooled for a trice
I saw it all truly, as clear as the day
The sugar concealing the spice
When luncheon was finished they started to play
At Honey-pots, Horseshoes, and so
Their games, I’d no doubt, meant my fears to allay
I remained unconvinced by the show
I was hot on the trail and out to discover
Each lady’s particular rot
From gambling to murder I soon would uncover
Then charge them all there on the spot
With dusk there came dancing and whirling delight
To tunes played upon airy fiddle
I was quickly pulled in by girls charming and slight
For a jig with me in the middle
I watched them with eyes as keen as a raptor’s
Not once taken in by their spell
Till the tolling of 9 alerted my captors
In truth I’d been saved by the bell
They gave back my paper, they gave back my pen
All sighing, contented, and spent
Declaring as one we should do this again
Collecting their things as they went
They bid me adieu and plied me with kisses
And drifted away in the night
Thus freed of the vigilant watch of the misses
I saw my best chance and took flight
I hastened, pell-mell, to my lone rented room
(I lodge just above the green grocer)
Determined to recount my ghastly near-doom
A shaving could not have been closer
My editor was keen, he thought it terrific
But fretted the good folk in town
Might easily quail at a tale so horrific
And sadly, he turned my work down
Thus is my harrowing yarn, my dear friends
Please take my example to heart
When sleuthing, or dodging precipitous ends
Then ne’er put the horse ’fore the cart.
