My Great Aunt Nell

My Great Aunt Nell had a terrific smell
It followed through life, and no doubt to Hell.
Her feet were in slippers,
Her hands were immense
And you’d call her by ‘phone if you had any sense…

Else she’d squeeze you and kiss you
And tell how she’d missed you
And make you eat Welly cakes
That Great Auntie Smelly bakes.

But last week I killed her and gently distilled her
Her head in a bottle to remind of the throttle
Her juices bubbling down knobbly-knee tubes
To catch of the essence that Nelly exudes.

I sold half the mixture as perfume for rats
And the rest I will sell to men who kill cats.