They spoke so nicely.
They spoke so well.
Yet these little sisters
Were children from hell!
They raided the gardens
Of all kinds of fruit
All the time seeming
To be blonde and cute.

The threat that their
Parents would be informed
Amused the children
Who had not conformed.
Who lived at the house
Where they claimed to reside?
They never knew.
Their true home they’d hide.

Yet now in old age
One recalling the truth
When the police didn’t
Find her in gardens of youth
And the sisters who knew
And would now insist
That such things have
Vanished in amnesia’s mist!


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