A certain girl in a certain job
Had certain duties to fill.
She cooked, she cleaned, and she had to be
On call to divine her master’s will.
But once a month she had a day off
For all her dreams to fill.
Then back to work in her master’s world
And his obsession with the till.
And on her monthly day off
She watched her passions chill.
So while she scrubbed she would search in vain
For some exotic little thrill.
A certain day in her master’s house
She dusted the study’s window sill
And there she saw with a wondering eye that
An eagle had left behind a quill.
And on her monthly day off
She held her feather still.
Then back at work she could feel a change
As the feather transmogrified her will.
And on her monthly day off
The girl resolved to kill.
But, lo and behold!, the very next day,
She found her master’s body, stilled.
And all at once she had a day off
To find herself a thrill.
The master’s house slowly set in to rot
Except for one dusted window sill.
