So Mary went to Market quick and got herself the jelly
back home the ram got really sick, the house turned truly smelly.
When Mary did return she saw and smelled the sour grasses
that had performed a quick return, fermenting into gases.
She cleaned the mess with sugar soap and sprayed to hide the odour
went to the library, no less and got herself a Fodor.
All thought of eating little lamb had gone out now forever,
she took the sickly little ram to masterbutcher Trevor.
Got 50 big ones and went straight to Heathrow in a hurry
awaiting her was her old mate, from school, his name was Murray.
They went to Spain, lived on the beach and drank the vino blanco
a mutton farmer, within reach, was a good friend of Franco.
Soon they ran out of pesobills and had to do some thinking,
they’d need to refill both their tills just to continue drinking.
The farmer hired them to feed and clean the rams and mutton,
the animals ate straw and weed and Barcelona cotton.
One day they had run out of mint, you know the special jelly
they soon would see old Murray sprint with fire in his belly.
When he returned the ram had died of viral meningitis
both Murray and young Mary cried, and Mary got St. Vitus.
The farmer said you bring bad luck go back to Londonderry,
they had to spent each lousy buck to pay the bloody ferry.

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