Dolly Made Me Write Poetry

Dolly Tate was a mean ol' prude.

She was loud, evil, horrific, and rude.

She had bright red harr a'top o'her head.

She said what she meant, and she meant what she said.

Some said she was funny.

I said she was mean.

Though most shockin' of all:

Dolly Tate was me.

Yes'm, it was a play called Annie Get Your Gun.

I was a freshman then - new like an early mornin' sun.

It was hard to be ill, racist, and terribly cruel.

Most days, I pouted, did'n know what to do.

So one day, I got out my pen and started'n to write.

I was tired o'bein' nasty. I did'n wanna fight.

I wrote a poem, then two, then three.

It le'me be kind. It le'me be free.

Well, after that, I reckoned that I quite liked Miz Tate.

I knew I could write a poem and clean off my slate.

My friends like to read 'em. Some o'em laughed 

About the girl with red harr and a green li'l sash.

Dolly's long gone. I've played many a'new role.

I've been a juror, a princess, and a wife with a goal,

But nothin'll match the cowgirl who thought she was best.

She gave me somethin' then that's worth more than the rest.

Now I'm gettin' older - growin' up, movin' out,

But I'll always carry a pen and somethin' good to write about.

I'll never forgit the show girl who sure thought she was queen.

Dolly made me write poetry - all dressed in her envious green.