'Once upon a wickedness, I fell into some arms Bigger than my belly, tighter than a clam. The keys were heavy in my little purse And every penny burned When I turned and tried to run. These buttons don't fit These buttons fit Woe, woe, woe, woeful me, woeful me. Is it halfway open? Is it halfway shut? It all depends how the cloth is cut On the warp, or on the weft Till the shortest thread Is all that's left. These buttons don't fit These holes don't fit Woe, woe, woe, woeful me, woeful me. '

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