Miss Smith, Oh Miss Smith, 

Whom did you share your life with? 

I hear no men, nor grateful lovers 

Slept nightly warmed, between cotton covers. 

 

 

Miss Smith, Oh Miss Smith, 

Backbone filled with English pith, 

Father absconds when you’re only three, 

So, off to 'Lion Aunts' for afternoon tea. 

 

 

Miss Smith, Oh Miss Smith, 

Celebrated poet smith, 

Captures life, whilst inwardly frowning, 

Love chased out to sea 'not waving but drowning'. 

 

 

Miss Smith, Oh Miss Smith, 

Rhyming body cold and stiff, 

Poetic thoughts deep inside your head, 

Unwritten, forgotten, for now, you're dead. 

 

 

Miss Smith, Oh Miss Smith, 

Whom will you share your death with? 

Will, you cradle in the arms of God, 

Or do atheists rot alone, under sod? 

 

 

Miss Smith, Oh Miss Smith 

We treasure the words you left us with 

Words that make us stop, then think for a while, 

Words that cause us to pause, cry or smile.