72nd Street

It was a subway in July
When my mother-in-law exploded
The proper authorities were called in
An investigation was made of rutabagas
(Wax turnips were strictly excluded)
My husband couldn't sit shiva because his bowling shoe wouldn't come off
The rabbi was incensed
Incense was ordered in great quantities
A funeral Mass was performed in the Episcopal Cathedral
(The Catholics turned us down, most understandably --
A matter of doctrine, you know...)
We couldn't have had a Jewish burial anyway
You have to gather all the pieces
And some of them went to Canarsie with the train
That took our Dear Old Mum away forever
It must have been something she ate
She never was a very good cook