Not hot like a vindaloo,
It takes a lot to warm her.
Our Beryl's mild and lovely too,
Just like a creamy korma.
Last year she met a chap named Jack,
Who was a good friend to her.
But played around behind her back,
As he started to woo her.
Beryl's son said "Jack's a fake,
Unfaithful and conniving."
She looked down at her walnut cake,
Then she stuck the knife in.
She slashed it into tiny crumbs
As Jack entered the kitchen.
She aimed the knife for Jack's old plums,
Her fingers really itching.
She gave a growl and bared her teeth,
This woman had turned feral.
She chased Jack all over the heath,
No more mild Beryl!
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