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