#pg299

so john has a hammer and she has knitting needles

Rose: Allocate knittin needlez ta strife specibus.

Yo ass feel a shitload mo' laid back wit dis as a weapon. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Yo ass is so handy wit dem needles, you feel like you could probably use dem ta filet a sword fish.

Did I ever tell you when I was born,

Pa cried we were clear out of luck,

He sent me out searchin’ for honey,

An’ my head in a beehive got stuck!

Poor mother was so forgetful,

She put a plum pudden in bed,

An’ covered my brother with custard,

“That’ll do us for supper,” she said!

Oh woe is me, what a family,

There used t’be just six of us,

But now there’s thirty-three . . . heeheeheeheeeeee!

The day Grandma took up knitting,

She couldn’t tell yarn from fur,

But she clacked her needles all evening,

An’ knitted herself to the chair!

My sisters left home for ever,

Then returned wet an’ soakin’ with tears,

The fire had died, so ‘twas I got ‘em dried,

I pegged ‘em all out by their ears!

Oh woe is me, not another more,

There used t’be thirty-three of us,

But now there’s thirty-four . . . hawhawhawhaaaaaw!

Old uncle was hard of hearing,

He’d a trumpet to hold by his ear,

Poor auntie was so short-sighted,

That she filled it with beer!

When a squirrel dropped by for a visit,

She tidied the place in a rush,

Auntie swept the floor an’ varnished the door,

By using his tail as a brush!

Oh woe is me an’ hares alive,

There used t’be thirty-four of us,