Miss Goody Goody Two Shoes,
As pure a nun’s two level feet,
With no heel to aggravate the earth,
Soft-soaping, unsullied sop,
Blowing bubbles with every word…
“Oh my what clean teeth you have!”
“All the better to sweet talk you with…”
But how sickly sweet is the cloying smell of worship,
Working up a lather at the back of your
Am I right in thinking?
That only silver queens pass the test of time.