A little song about one of my pet peeves. Thanks to Brad Sucks for providing the perfect instrumentals…

Lyrics:
Walking on down the sidewalk,
I pick up a big red rubber ball.
There is a message written on it
For all the world to see.
It is thus addressed:
Property of the Allen, apostrophe s.
The Allen’s what?
The Allen’s what?
The Allen’s what?
That suspended little curl
Makes it possessive and not plural.
What in the world can belong to the Allen?
This ball belongs to something belonging to the Allen….

Surfing on the internet,
I stumble across a certain blog.
One entry looks interesting
About a trip to a petting zoo.
Less wordy than the rest;
Take a look at these photo, apostrophe s.
These photo’s what?
These photo’s what?
These photo’s what?
That suspended little curl
Makes it possessive and not plural.
What in the world can belong to these photo?
I need to see what belongs to these photo…

Two kiddos play together.
They have themselves a really splendid time.
But, in a letter from a mother,
She writes to a friend.
She has to confess:
Better times were had by the Mommy, apostrophe s.
The mommy’s what?
The mommy’s what?
The mommy’s what?
That suspended little curl
Makes it possessive and not plural.
What in the world can belong to the mommy?
Great times were had by something belonging to the mommy….

A family makes an announcement
Of the birth of a brand new baby girl.
In the caption of a picture
Of the newborn fast asleep:
We are truly blessed;
There are now seven Johnson, apostrophe s.
Seven Johnson’s what?
Seven Johnson’s what?
Seven Johnson’s what?
That suspended little curl
Makes it possessive and not plural.
What in the world can belong to seven Johnson?
Besides that tell me, just who is seven Johnson?