Matilda May
Was eight years old today
The kids at the park
Called her dress too dark
Chanted sneers arose from the crowd
High-pitched and drawling, all together much too loud
'A which! A witch!
A terrible snitch!'

When a voice through the clamor rose
Marvel Matts had a rebuttal catered for foes
'If this be a which, then I'm afeared for my life
For she have a pure soul, and shalt be my wife'

A giggle, a gaggle, a rose-filled kazoo
Split through the air, and surrounded the two
Young Marvel Matts just stood there and stared
Till Matilda May decided that no one cared
She got up and ran, right out of the town
On her face was nothing, but a permanent frown

For twenty-odd years
There was nothing but tears
Matts chasing the May
The May running away

When finally again they meet once more
Marvels heart throbbed more than ever before
He dropped down on one knee and began to beg
Swearing to god he wasn't pulling her leg
He wanted to marry the love of his life
In hopes that it might end all of her strife

They soon found themselves on floor 6
In room 66 where the paintings cheered, jeered, and sneered
Knowing full well that she was afeared
'A witch! A witch! A terrible snitch!'

Those lies! Those lies!
Those wicked old lies
Haunted her fun
Till the rest she had none

And from that top window came a whip crickle snatch
Since Matilda, good girl had loosened the latch
Down from above Marvel Matts came flying
And there on the ground her lover lay dying

Blood poured from his head
A deep colored red
Deeper even so
Than the lovers love go

No regret in her head
Relief there instead

A wise one did say
As dear Matilda May
Stood smiling by the sill
Gazing at him, so patient so still
'Beware the witch, the terrible snitch!'