The lady was crying
Who sat down beside him.
Her jaw line was set,
And her countenance grim.

She said that the teller
Told her something obscene;
That hers was the ugliest
Baby she’d ever seen

He told the mad mother,
Who seemed at a loss,
That she should complain
To the rude teller’s boss.

The small one she held
Had grown wiggly and spunky;
“If it’ll help you,” he said,
“I’ll hold your monkey.”