Deborah was a little girl Who didn’t have a little curl Right in the middle of her forehead No she had a monobrow When people saw it, they went wow! And secretly they thought it very horrid
Her sisters mocked, her sisters jeered Until eventually, to escape their sneers She asked her mum to begin to pluck The hairs which to her forehead hugged
Her ma began this mammoth chore She plucked and pulled until she wore Herself completely out and feeling drained Had barely the energy to explain
That the second brow would have to wait She was all plucked out and it was getting late Deborah begged and Deborah pleaded Two eyebrows plucked was what she needed
But all in vain, she went to school next day Her strange looking forehead on display The children mocked, the children jeered Ran off in fright whenever Deborah neared
When was that second eyebrow plucked? So that Deborah no longer looked a schmuck How much later did folk not have to avert their gaze I’ve been told the answer: it was days