An Autobiographical Poem of a Franchisor's Daughter

"Blue Mau Mau people called her names. Signowsky couldn’t extinguish the flames."

Lansing Lil was a school marm till she went west.

That’s where she decided she liked screwin franchisees best. When she did it, she screwed for keeps, and piled her victims round in heaps.

Till one day down from Bar’s Ass Creek, came a hairy dude named The Assistant Attorney General of Illinois.

He slapped his stuff upon the bar, and by God it smelled from here to thar. All the lawyers from here to hell couldn’t wash away that awful smell.

The Attorney General had a very big staff, and they all were there to watch him laugh. The earth was torn from miles around as he made her agendas plow the ground. She wrote checks and bigger checks, begged and pleaded; trade associations interceded; but the government hound didn’t yet have what he needed.

He left her torn. He left her bleeding. Victims were busy intervening. Blue Mau Mau people called her names. Signowsky couldn’t extinguish the flames. Finally in memory to this great franchisor, they nailed her panties to the bar room door.