Mary-Jayne

When little Mary-Jayne, Popped down to the local store, Little did she suspect, Her life would be the same no more.

Upon the shelf next to Faz, Sat a little box, No advert, No picture, Except a little red fox.

It seemed to be an exception, Amongst the dull array, Her hand reached out to touch it, Nothing could keep her away.

Her hand it seemed glued, To the cartons face, It was a strange power, That strangely didn't feel out of place.

A short waltz to the till, A couple of steps more, Back to her home, And onto the kitchen floor.

It was even better, It was really great, All the mums wanted it, It seemed to be fate.

Little did they know, That upon the kitchen floor, This magical product, That they had to have more.

Was a little clever, Not your stuff, Inside this packet, Was little more than fluff.

The makers laughed, The producers cried, The British public, Have been stupefied.

Learn your lesson, And learn it well, It may be your fate, You can never tell.

That little box, Upon the shelf, Could be robbing you, Of a lot of wealth.