Signor V.: within the last couple of months, I tracked down two issues of Mad Magazine that contain Jacobs songs that I remember verbatim over 50 years later:

(Sung to "Grand Old Flag")

She's a mean old bag,
She's a nasty old hag,
And forever she's filled us with hate.
But we treat her sweet,
And kiss her feet,
And tell her we think that she's great.

Let her curse at us,
We will not raise a fuss,
When she starts in to scream and nag.
For we all are counting what we'll get,
From the will of that mean old bag.

It's uncanny how they stick with you.