Ms Mary Mack
All dressed in black
Danced the streets of Brunswick
Heart-shaped buttons all down her back.
Down Edward Street she spun
Her dream shopping list in mind
But where-o-where she wondered
Could she ever find:
A handmade kitchen clock
Shaped round like a doll
Made of vintage lino scraps
And a whole lotta soul.
Or perhaps a summer dress
Nipped primly at the waist
Of vintage floral fabric
Made with love
Not in haste.
Was it too much to pine,
For a purse of leather oh-so-fine
And a printed button brooch
Or a divine smelling soap?
When on Pussycat Black she stumbled
So happy she could burst
Ms Mary Mack discovered
She could finally quench that killer thirst.
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