Betty’s in the Beauty Salon,
Shows the beautician her nails.
A mile away on the edge of town,
Are heard the screams and wails!
The beautician takes a long, deep breath,
“How would madam like them?” she asks, quite daunted.
“I want them black and blue,” says Betty,
“And I want them sharp and pointed!”
“Oh dear, I fear your nails will then,
Become like claws,” the beautician said.
“And black and blue are so not you,
Wouldn’t madam prefer radiant red?”
“Hmm, radiant red?” Betty pondered this new idea,
Then said with a hesitant stammer,
“B-but wouldn’t that mean painting them, instead,
Of hitting them with a hammer?”
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