A LOCAL ROLLERBLADER, STOLE ALL OF MAMA'S MARMALADE

Someone raided my big, kitchen pantry, and stole all of my fancy, marmalade,

They probably took it to Sunshine Town, where it's worth its weight in gold, in a trade,

They might trade it for whisky, made of corn,

Or, those magazines, descent people scorn,

Most likely, they traded to get into that park, where kids skateboard, and rollerblade.