Little lovely Nancy,
Always a bit fancy,
With her blonde, curly hair
And her face powdered pale.
Bragging about her lace,
And her cute freckled face,
Showing off pretty bows,
And shiny shoes she chose.
She snickered at poor girls,
Simple bows and loose curls,
Dull shoes with tiny scratches,
Ragged dresses full of patches.
Until one day they said:
Nancy when you're in bed,
Fast asleep and dreaming,
He will leave you screaming.
Everything you cherish,
He will make it perish,
Be careful what you say,
Nancy, you must obey.
Your dresses and long lace,
Will one day leave no trace.
With every aspersion,
Your clothes a dispersion.
He will tear your big pearls,
Comb out your precious curls,
Leave you nothing but mud,
On your face, pools of blood.
Not heeding their warnings,
She continued her sins.
Landing her without her things,
No jewels, no bows, no rings.
The next morning, she lay;
Lifeless, skin now pale grey,
Blood soaking through the sheet
Heart - not a single beat
Poor, dead, little Nancy
Always just too fancy
Bragging hurt her instead:
Dead on her blood-soaked bed
