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It starts with the weeds.
Here in the courtyard, mother.
Just burning the weeds.

It doesn't stop there.
Here in the fields. Farmer's crops.
Mother burns them too.

They're never apart.
Not anymore, since last week,
Mother burnt the farm!!

What joy is beheld.
Mother and her flamethrower.
Bye bye Mr. Jeans!!

The police came calling.
They asked mother some questions,
so she burnt them too.

"What's this??" asks the queen,
"A flamethrower!!" said mother
and flambéd the throne.

Mother's disappeared,
The destruction she wrought, just
burning legacies.

I hope she comes back.
Look. Here, in the courtyard, where
the weeds have returned.