Felicity-fly-off-the handle was rotten and mean as can be.
Some said she was too hot to handle, and those who got burnt would agree.
Her outbursts were truly alarming, her tempers would shake the whole room.
And even when people were charming, she swept them aside with her broom.
Her eyes like her hair grew quite wildly, and no one was spared from her rage.
Obnoxious? That’s putting it mildly, but folks put it down to her age.
Felicity-fly-off-the-handle had earned a bad name for herself.
And now like an old half used candle, she found herself left on the shelf.
For who in his right mind would woo her, a firebrand no longer young.
Alas, no one dared to persue her, for fear of the wrath of her tongue.
Folks said there had once been a scholar, who frequently came to her house.
But one day she started to holler, and turned the man into a mouse.
And yet she had felt rather lonely, with so much time brooding alone.
The mouse for companionship only, and frogs that she’d turned into stone.
Then one day a tall handsome stranger from out of the blue rang her bell.
His eyes flashed with passion and danger, and soon she fell under his spell.
She never inquired his profession, he could have been beggar or thief.
She warmed to his manly expression and kisses far beyond belief.
The suitor called often to see her, not knowing her terrible past.
But he never needed to fear, for she had found magic at last.
Her rages at once almost vanished, she hardly threw tantrums at all.
And callers were no longer banished, in fact she would ask them to call.
Felicity’d found her vocation, a dutiful loving new bride.
She loved him with sweet adoration, and so put her broomstick aside.
Felicity-fly-off-the-handle, no longer alone on the shelf.
And just like the flame of her candle, extinguished her previous self.
This story, of course has a moral, the next time that you meet a bitch,
Be careful if you have a quarrel, it could be the bitch is a witch.
Lynne Bradley 