Change Of Plan Poem by Ima Ryma

A string of rosary beads, we
Were shipped to New Orleans address,
Supposed to be a nunnery,
But some mistake was made, we guess.
We ended up with a Grandpa,
A widower and atheist,
Who took us off to Mardi Gras,
And clenched us in his sweaty fist.
At the parade, a float went by.
Ladies in bright costumes were clothesed.
Yelling, he tossed us, the old guy.
We landed on a boob exposed.

All that we see and hear is wrong,
But guess we will just string along.