The marvellous Mrs McWinton
Achieved her neighbourhood fame
By wearing the same green tracksuit
Again and again and again.

She wore it to work in the morning,
When dancing at night it remained,
And weekends were marked by wearing
The same, just the same, just the same.

Gossip and rumour abounded,
Fashionistas believed her insane,
But Mrs McWinton wore it
Again and again and again.

Then, at a neighbourhood picnic
A soup bowl slipped out of her hand.
Down her full length ensemble,
A stain, a big stain, a huge stain.

Only one question was whispered
While she went home to get changed:
Would the outfit she’d next be wearing
Look strange, very strange rearranged?

But marvellous Mrs McWinton’s
Wardrobe just had to be seen.
There, eleventy fresh clean tracksuits
Hung green, all in green, all in green.