Here comes Buttterful Betty, floppin’ her jibber and jabbers everywhere.
Oh, she’s really on us now! Isn’t she so very prudy proud to be so very Buttterful.
When I say, “Buttterful Betty you house cow! Get down from there!”.
She says, “NO! You can’t bring me down!”.
When I say, “Buttterful Betty you cheese tractor!! Get your Jiggle out of my way!”.
She says, “NO! You can’t get Jiggy with me!”.
When I say “Buttterful Betty you rotten slut! Don’t press your hot dog wigglies on that!”.
She says “NO! You don’t oppress ME like that!”.
How many bales of butter does she down in a day? Most all.
How many shovels of salt does she lick up for lunch? Most all.
How many aisles of appetizers does she endlessly eat? MOST ALL.
Particular Thats that I DON’T appreciate particularly:
That when her rolls are at low tide you can smell her flavors over all the food trucks.
That her socks give her shins the muffin tops while her paunch gets the rest of the muffin.
That when she speaks, the sounds of chaffing are sent out from her chin accordion.
That when her belly button gape gets a clot it coughs out meat sweat curds.
That she keeps calling Stanley Steemer to ask if they do bathrooms too.
Hold up, there she went. Managed to widdle waddle herself past us without a jib or jab.
That was pretty rude, didn’t even say hi. What a bitch.