I have a friend; her name is Helen.
She's very nice and not bad smellin'.
It's e'er so clear that she's no felon,
Or if she is, she's not tellin'.
But come to think, she mentioned sellin'
Her nice 'n humble family dwellin'.
So casual-like...was it oversellin'?
Perhaps it was really parallelin'
Her need to flee but be compellin' -
Convince me that she's not rebellin'
And hopin' I won't go a-yellin'
And let her leave just like Magellan
(Is that right? I'm not good at spellin'.)
Now I'm thinkin' things in my melon.
My goodness how my head is swellin'
With news like this 'bout a ne'er-do-wellin'...
To think I'd almost gone a-fellin'
And let her ruse keep on propellin'.
Bet she's really terr'ble smellin'.
Wonder, should I go tattle-tellin'?
But these nerves of mine, there is no quellin'
About my so-called-friend named Helen
Who must truly be a nasty felon...
Pro'lly 'scaped prison by repellin'
Down its walls like a nutty hellion.
Oh my, this is awful compellin'.
Better lock my door 'fore she rings my bell 'n
I get caught by the fiendish Helen.
...and people say I'm paranoid...
