MOTHER WOTSAT, OF WANAMAKERLAND
Of MOTHER WOTSAT you've heard tell
And if you've met this lovely belle,
You know she is not an old dame
Wrinkled, humpbacked, sadly lame.
Ah, no, she is a fine young maid
Who puts her sisters in the shade
With sparkling eyes and sylph-like form,
No wonder for her heart men storm.
But best of all, she has the art
To win each naughty kiddie's heart
By telling tales in rhyme and prose
Such tales as only WOTSAT knows.
And she is, oh, so very wise;
She answers kids of every size
When they call out, "Wotsat, and why?"
She never passes questions by.
For she knows well just how to find
Answers for each thirsty mind,
And BOOK OF KNOWLEDGE FAIRY WELL
Is at her hand, great truths to tell.