There once was a girl with a curse
Who carried her life/soul in her purse
When it started to fray
She watched in dismay
As her heart met the world with shy squirts.
You can figure a girl by her purse,
If empty, she's probably terse,
But a full pocket book
May signal a crook
Who will land a man dead in a hearse.
A woman can get rather terse
When a man tries to open her purse
He can't understand
It's her mind in his hand
And the secrets she'll take to her hearse.
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