Dory Pumper Pickle Mellow,
Was in her room in a dress of yellow,

Lying on her wooden bed,
Pondering over what her mother said,

Dory Pumper Pickle Mellow,
You must find yourself a fellow,

To hold your hand and give you care,
Wash your car and brush your hair,

He can hate the sun and the bees,
Smell like wool or cottage cheese,

Have the measles, lice or the flu,
Dory, as long as he loves you!

Your husband held your foot than hand,
Filled your car with mounds of sand,

Added mustard to your hair,
Dory,does he really care?

So Dory, Dory, Dory dear,
Please stop sitting, sulking, on your rear,

And listen to your wise old mum,
For your husbands very dumb!

So Dory, full of guilt and dread,
Slid slowly off her wooden bed,

Brushed against the wooden wall,
Carefully slipped on down the hall,

Round the doorframe, down the stairs,
Through the kitchen and over the chairs,

Drifted into her worn down car,
And drove off very, very far,

And now my friend, the story is done,
For no one knows where Dory’s gone.

Ava