Green, Lettuces, tumbling down the sky. How let-down Lily was as it crushed her crown? "Hey, you fat man." she roared. "I'll sue you!"
Ladyfingers came, to jail him in a fridge. "Oh, no. Don't do this." Poor Lettuces cried but to no avail.
At dawn, Lettuces was cooked dead, shrouded in white bread.
Lily dropped by, at his funeral. Prim and proper, clad in the black vase. Prayers of bon appetit in the dining grave.
The fork that stabbed the corpse, knocked the pretty vase. Down it fell unforeseen.
Lily's death is still a mystery.
Lily's death is still a mystery. Ghosts of Lettuces roamed the Kitchen Garden Streets.