by Nick Gisburne
When Jack and Jill grew up they had a child
And took her to the legendary hill
A little light nostalgia, something mild
Perhaps they’d find another pail to fill?
The water, sold in bottles, wasn’t cheap
And Rent-a-Bucket folded long ago
But Bo, their little girl, had brought her sheep
Which scattered as the water failed to flow
So Jack and Jill pulled AR-45s
And shot the water seller in the head
They chopped him into pieces with their knives
The vinegar and paper dealers? Dead
Poor Jack and Jill went up before the judge
And all because they couldn’t mend a grudge
