Belly, what a waste
And eating all in haste,
Not knowing that it's laced:
Poison that I can't taste.
We hoped the tasty frees,
"Please guide us where we please",
Not seeing that he sees,
We're really pulled on skis.
Then savior front door,
Knock-knock open wide,
Despite being poor,
We're rich as his bride.

Danger to us,
No more dangerous,
He fashioned a sail made out of the veil.
So now I'm his bride,
But then so is my wife,
And daily to abide,
He keeps us on the ride