MARY

Mary doesn’t walk — she bebops
As if loping across the tree tops

There’s music inside her
This sweet, swinging strider

She rocks and she rolls and she pops

When driving, she also bebops
Though not speeding, or else it’s — the cops

Mary is careful
If not always prayerful —

At stop signs, usually she stops

In DI, she hauls all the props
Driving till (almost) she drops

But moving inside
And grooving with pride

As her teams make their way to the tops

She’s a mother at home, and she mops
Cleaning the spills and the slops

Each day, such service
(Do they deserve this?)

Till onto her mattress she plops

This party’s focus and fixity
Is Mary — now turning sixity

She’s doin’ all right
Bebopping and bright —

In fact, she is whistling Dixitie

She walks to the Dome, where she hops
She drives to the stores, where she shops

Inside ever swinging
Singing and springing

She’s rock & roll, R&B . . . bops

Happy Birthday, Mary!
SEPTEMBER 2, 2007

MARY BOOTHBY

Rearrange the letters, and you can find these fun hidden messages:
A BOY! MY THROB!
BABY, THY ROOM
OH, MY BOY BRAT!
ARMY — BOTH BOY(S)
AHOY! TRY BOMB!
TRY A OM HOBBY
TH’ R&BB YO YO MA