A Shrew

I ever met an awful shrew,
whoose name I dare not speak,
an mocking frame , one fit for stew ,
A meal would made all squeak,
Oh , of revolting stuff , an curstin' brew ,
of what made Herculus puke ,
I'll bid my piss , my very least ,
to give that brat a smack.

A sparkling tear,
anyhow she'll make ,
to wipe the smithies' sneers,
though no feud to rake .
Such shrews of reason not ,
will surely make your fill of rot,
don't scream out loud , that shrew shall hear,
"Bring in the bucket! We're going to be sick !"