Oh never mind the moaning and
The groaning in the hall
That’s only our ghost Doris who
We do not mind at all
We tried and tried to help her I’m
Afraid we did our best
But we were not successful in
Putting her soul to rest
So now she haunts our hallways
Every midnight without fail
So please sit down and I’ll relate
Unto you her sad tale
Doris rushed through every meal
Her passion quite overt
But not for her dull food she yearned
But for that of dessert
Perhaps a habit she picked up
Eating her mother’s cooking
Who told her she should eat her meat
Lest she could have her pudding
Or maybe lots of siblings who
Left her feeling bereft
If they took desserts before hers
And so there was none left
Or maybe she thought that her cakes
Her ice creams and sorbets
Would one day magically grow legs
And up and walk away
So Doris in her kitchen stood
Like one facing starvation
With food not really eaten one
Might call it inhalation
And little did she know she would
Meet her maker that day
At the hands of a chicken bone
That went down the wrong way
They found her two days later
Rigor mortis had set in
One stiffened hand poised on her throat
One on the cookie tin
And now she wonders through the halls
Focused, on high alert
Her soul will not be laid to rest
Until that last dessert
Of course we tried to help her sure
No reward would be greater
We offered every sweet and tart
In our refrigerator
But soon we realized our attempts
Would only go to waste
Doris no longer had the means
To chew, swallow or taste
And that my friend does mark the end
Of Doris’ sad story
Condemned to spend eternity
In Dessert Purgatory
