A Dubious Boot
There was an old woman who lived in a boot,
No children, but lots of cupiditive loot.
Down deep in the toe went her dollars each week,
To keep them from those who might come and go seek.
Her dinner was thin middling broth without bread,
No salmon or pasta, saved money instead.
As thinner and slimmer the greedy one grew,
Her secret was sacred so nobody knew.
Some fine finger-lickin' the citizens brought,
Nice portions of chicken to thicken her broth.
She cackled, 'So grateful been down on my luck!
Can't pay for the plateful, no penny, no buck! '
More bulky and hulky the bulging boot drew,
Until it burst open, then everyone knew!
So under one's mattress one must keep one's loot,
Not down in the toe of one's dubious boot!
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