With unction down the purple lane

With unction down the purple lane,
The much adhesive Lady Jane
Curtailed herself, with gallant ease
And functioned round the apple trees.

“To do,” she thought, “as much to fry,
“I’ll whisper through the apple pie,”
But nobody could truncheon less
Than jacket’s meat in no distress.

And so, she coined another trip,
And underplayed the rocket ship:
A fair old piece for Mabel’s eye,
That never-thinking apple pie.

It might have ended horribly,
But fortune cookies in the sea
And elephants, whose ankles went,
Were all that Madam really spent.