Mrs. Plumpy Rumpy Wumps
Counted all her lumpy lumps
Fifty lumpy lumps she had
And she thought, “Well, that’s not bad…
But I’d like more
lumpy lumps
Real lumpy ones, not just small bumps.”
And so she piled food on her plate
And ate and ate and ate and ate
She ate until her lump-count grew
From fifty up to eighty-two!
“Eighty-two is good,” she said
“But if I eat while I’m in bed
I bet I’d get to ninety-three!”
So Mrs. Wumps, with an I.V.
Was fed all night through one large vein
It didn’t cause her any pain
And after twenty nights, Ms. Wumps
Had two hundred and twenty lumps
“That’s grand!” she cried, “But I want more!
I want nine hundred sixty four!
I must eat up, and starting now!”
And so she promptly ate a cow
And then a duck and then a goose
And then a battered, deep-fried moose
She ate until she had to rest
Then while she slept, ground chicken breast
Was fed to her through her I.V.
Along with butter, lard and ghee
For twelve weeks she continued so
Her lumpy self did grow and grow
And on the Counting Day, Ms. Wumps
Found nine hundred and
ninety lumps!
And though she died of heart disease
She died contented, rest in peace.
