My Nutty Old Aunt Norah!

My nutty old Aunt Norah, once knitted me a hat,
It would have fitted perfectly, had my head been large and flat.
It should have hid my ‘outy’ ears, that Auntie did detest,
But they broke free, almost with glee, and travelled east and west

My nutty old Aunt Norah, once knitted me a jumper:
Three-sleeved and adorned with, a rather drop-stitched ‘Thumper’.
She knew I hated rabbits and thought it was a laugh,
To Disney-decorate this knit and make me look quite daft.

My nutty old Aunt Norah, once knitted me a coat,
Instead of using wool this time, she used hair from a goat.
And every time I wore it, people said I stank,
I felt the shame, but took the blame, tho' Auntie was to thank.

My nutty old Aunt Norah, once knitted me some pants,
And prior to presenting them, smeared them with jam and ants,
I wore them once to show her – did not want to offend,
And fixed a smile, but for a while, ants filed up my rear end!

My nutty old Aunt Norah, once knitted me a shroud!
I rather think she hated me, she said I was too loud.
‘Children should be seen,’ she said, ‘But never ever heard!’
But the abatement in this statement verged on stupid and absurd.

My nutty old Aunt Norah, passed away the other day,
I viewed her in her front room, in the coffin where she lay.
She looked quite smug, arms folded, across her droopy tits,
But gave a frown as I looked down, returning all her knits.

The jumper, hat, coat and shroud, now with stitches loosed.
The ant-filled pants, still slightly jammed, so cruelly produced.
All thrown in Aunt’s coffin; it was the last time that I saw her.
I felt no grief, just vast relief: no more knitting from Aunt Norah!