Poor ole Anna, such a miserable soul
An old maid and spinster, least that’s what I’m told.
She watched the mail man on his rounds each day,
She liked to watch how his bum would bump and sway.
Her hair tied in a knot on the back of her head
Not a straind out of place even when she’s just out of bed.
A brown sweater she wore all year round,
Over a white high collared buttoned blouse, oh so renowned.
On her feet she wore grandma boots,
No, really, inherited from her Grandma’s Smoots
Then one day her front door bell rang,
There on her porch stood Oprah and her gang.
“We’re here to give you a makeover,” Oprah said with glee
“And I’m footing the bill, you get it all for free.”
Well they cut and they permed, plucked and painted
When they finished Anna nearly fainted.
Standing there was a reflection in the mirror
Whom she looked like it could not be clearer
Standing there looking back at her through that piece of glass
She turned and said, “Phew, Oprah, you sure got gas!”