She's so pretty!
From Vegas she came
Her long hair a-blowing
In her eyes the flame
A-flickering and glowing
The flame of glory
The flame of triumph
I'll tell you her story
(try not to cry-umph)
Becca was born in a land far away
A land unaccustomed to sticks, grass, or hay
For in Vegas, THE Vegas, was this lass raised
But raised righteously (you might be amazed)
She doesn't do drugs or break any laws
And she even believes in Santa Claus!
She loves kittens and ducklings and puppies
(But don't trust her with your little guppies
For the fish that were her best friend's birthday present
Were cruelly flushed without Ali's assent
Because they were flopping and dying in pain-
At least that is what Becca claims)
But besides that small lapse in her good judgement,
A bad person, Becca wasn't.
Playing the piano from the age of seven,
Becca's music for mortals is manna from heaven
She attended a private piano academy
Many colleges accepted her with alacrity
She still, luckily, chose BYU
To be with me and my other roommates, too
Becca left behind her dog and kittens
She came to BYU and was smitten
With the school and classes and roommies
Because we are pretty darn groovy!
Look how cool we are at Applebee's. (Literally cool. The waiter spilled ice water on me.)
And that's Becca in a nutshell, or rather, a random poem with no apparent structure or even a very good rhyme scheme.
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