There was an old dear of Bengal,
Who was quite unbelievably small,
But she ate a fresh tiger,
That wriggled inside her,
And curled her up tight as a ball.
The old lady fought back I recall,
And started a preposterous brawl,
It was quite a sight,
To watch those two fight,
Like a cartoon of limbs all asprawl.
It eventually slowed to a crawl,
When the old lady let out a loud call,
Well, more like howl,
That changed to a growl,
And frightened the crowd, one and all.
She stretched up and shredded her shawl,
And towered right over the wall,
So her wish had come true,
She had a wonderful view,
Because now she's impossibly tall.
The epilogue of this has a twist,
Because she can't really exist,
If you see this old dear,
And don't run with fear,
I'll think you're incredibly tipsy.
