Little miss Moffett whose thoughts are all of profit
sits next to the spider whose eight eyes are all on a fly across the room.
But an old woman walked in and promptly tripped atop it.
She fell forward with a “gasp!” and the fly flew right in.
“Congratulations, you’ve won!” screamed miss Moffett
with dollar sign designs on the old ladies purse strings.
“You’re the first who’s tripped through that door today!”
The old woman brushed off her knees, and stood up precariously. Her bonnet was askew, and as she reached up to straighten it, her stomach made a loud gurgling noise.
She said “I do believe I’ve swallowed a fly!”
“I can sell you this spider…” said miss Moffett, sly.
And on it went, Old Lady in tow,
Miss Moffett selling animals all down the row.
As each one went in, the Old Woman looked grim.
“How will I get rid of this one now then?”
Until finally she sat, split at her seams,
a cowbell faintly ringing from inside her blue jeans.
Moffett ran up, with a stallion in tow–
“This’ll get rid of that cow, don’t you know!”
The Old Lady looked spent, her heart wasn’t in it,
“My purse is vacant.” she said, “–I just can’t afford it.”
Miss Moffett’s eyes fell, and brow furrowed hard.
“You could always sign up for our new credit card.”
The old Lady relented and filled out the forms.
“This is great,” Moffett said, “you’ll get that bull by the horns!”
Of course the old woman died, as you’re no doubt aware,
her heart trampled flat by a whinnying mare.
[Lets call this a silly statement about capitalism. Here’s the old woman lyrics in case you want to refresh your memory.]