The Golden Goose was prized for her eggs
That shone light in brilliant gold.
But there soon came a time when she could make them no more
For her egg-making device was rusty and old.
My aunt is a maiden some suspect past forty,
With a knack for keeping the suitors at bay.
'Ten cats in her apartment, she's surely dotty!'
But my aunt cared less what they say.
It is fun when she takes us out indulging
Til our bellies (and hers) are bulging,
Then she'll shows us her Pradas, Vuittons & Tiffany,
She dearly calls them, 'my babies.'
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