Bedizen

Miss Bedizen's in bed again,
Her fatigue is quite ferocious.
The dress she wore from nine to ten
Was something quite atrocious.
It was lime green--thirty pounds, she said--
All trimmed with purple leather.
Its gobs of lace were cherry red,
And lined with hot pink turkey feathers.
Hope-blue diamonds pulled the collar
Down right past her shoulders.
And everyone wanted to holler,
"Cover up your boulder holders!"
Miss Bedizen didn't notice them
Until she wobbled down the stairs.
But she was so exhausted then,
That she had few other cares
Than to make it down to breakfast
In more than just her underwears.

So Miss Bedizen walked as fast
As her dress would then allow,
Looking more ridiculous
Than a green bedazzled cow.
When we saw her, we all laughed
Until she tripped on our poor dog, Rover.
That demonic dress tore right in half,
And knocked a candle over.
Miss Bedizen's dress was all a mess,
Scorched and burnt and torn.
But she's much too tired now to stress,
The fabric now to mourn.

But if you think that's something,
Just wait until tomorrow morning.
I'm sure it will be some awful thing
That Miss Bedizen is adorning.