Miss Goldee

It was just down the street,

From the Tresbair abode

Mary Goldee could be seen

Hiding behind bushes all alone,

She had binoculars in hand

And a black bag in the other

Her blond hair smashed with a hat

And nails a black lacquer

Little Miss Goldie, all in black

Made a dash through the night

Onto the Tresbair’s porch in back

And darted quickly inside

She slammed open cupboards

It was quite a chore

Perusing all the floors

Stealing things she adored

Some things weren’t quite right

To the list she had in mind

Others were perfect

For her monetary direction

But her plan didn’t turn out

For Papa Tresbair was early

And discovered Goldie

Thieving about

She was turning up beds

When papa called the feds

And later, hit her over the head

When the cops came

Goldie had a lot to explain