Veruca Salt, the little brute

'Veruca Salt, the little brute, Has just gone down the garbage chute, (And as we very rightly thought That in a case like this we ought To see the thing completely through, We've polished off her parents, too.) Down goes Veruca! Down the drain! And here, perhaps, we should explain That she will meet, as she descends, A rather different set of friends To those that she has left behind– These won't be nearly so refined. A fish head, for example, cut This morning from a halibut. 'Hello! Good morning! How d'you do? How nice to meet you! How are you?' And then a little further down A mass of others gather round: A bacon rind, some rancid lard, A loaf of bread gone stale and hard, A steak that nobody could chew, An oyster from an oyster stew, Some liverwurst so old and gray One smelled it from a mile away, A rotten nut, a reeky pear, A thing the cat left on the stair, And lots of other things as well, Each with a rather horrid smell. These are Veruca's new found friends That she will meet as she descends, And this is the price she has to pay For going so very far astray. But now, my dears, we think you might Be wondering–is it really right That every single bit of blame And all the scolding and the shame Should fall upon Veruca Salt? Is she the only one at fault? For though she's spoiled, and dreadfully so, A girl can't spoil herself, you know. Who spoiled her, then? Ah, who indeed? Who pandered to her every need? Who turned her into such a brat? Who are the culprits? Who did that? Alas! You needen't look so far To find out who these sinners are. They are (and this is very sad) Her loving parents, MUM and DAD. And that is why we're glad they fell Into the garbage chute as well.'