bun

I’m not stunning nor beguiling

For certain, I possess no elegance

To profess these things, I would be lying

‘Tis not a thing about me that’s delicate

 

I can cross my legs, powder my nose

Whenever the timing is apropos

Though I’d rather be messy, long hair in a bun

Not at all ladylike, I do not suppose

 

I’m not classy, snazzy nor graceful

Have never been chic, have never been posh

If you make me cross, you’ll get a mouthful

Profanities included (not gee, golly, or gosh)

 

I’m a little bit naughty, a spoonful of nice

A bit of a rebel, with a gleam in my eye

Witty and sharp, like the blade of a knife

And I won’t ever change, I see no reason why

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