Scurry

Who is she over there?
The one with an elongated face
And feathery hair
She who has the stare of a blazing star
The one who's odor is of daisies
Could be smelled from afar

She without beauty
Who keeps more grace
Then any I know
Her dance is never in step with tune
Her skirt drapes and sways
As a violent broom
As she scurries about the room

Why is she so much in a hurry
Dusting, wiping, and straightening everything
Clean, clean, it must be clean!
For this dear momma is expecting

Mend the curtains
Brush the dust
Hurry she must!
Feed the cat
Beat the rat
Gather all the wood
This momma would hurry if she could
But this dear momma's water just broke!