The Queen of Upper Downerstuff did flibber-flabber in the buff, and
when she thought she had not enough, she'd take a little sniff and
snuff. In vein did she her days abuse with all the strangest
rendezvouses, while trampling over all taboos, and this she did just
That Queen of Upper Downerstuff alas, hard pressed to find enough,
became quite grisly grim and gruff when times became so very tough.
In vein she did her nights abuse down darkened lanes and avenues,
until she gathered scrape and bruise where youthful skin did once
Sad Queen of Upper Downerstuff did lose her throne, her furry muff,
her scepter and her royal stuff, for all did pass but fisticuff....
In vein her dreams did seep and ooze, leaving seeping residues, for
horrid was the final news; the Queen was dead from drugs and booze.
Long live Upper Downerstuff! A new Queen rises, rude and rough, her
throne a bared and brazen bluff, her regal blather, huff and puff.
In vein she'll follow former cues, and consistently thereby confuse
and sadly, horribly misuse all the things life's darkness brews.
Long live Upper Downerstuff!