[Rose Kelleher]

Ouch!

And now to add to your pain.

I'm sorry that you're hurt at awl,
but if you had to be,
I'm glad you did it with an awl,
conveniently for me.

I'm glad you didn't take a fall
and fuddle up your femur,
or smash into a concrete wall
and blitzify your Beemer;

or, in the bowels of some mall,
slip and trash your tibia
while squatting in a bathroom stall
('cause then we'd hafta rib ya);

or leap into a barroom brawl
and total your patella,
or throw a rabid dog a ball
and end up like Old Yella;

or find yourself supine, asprawl,
and clutching at your clavicle,
run over by some drunken pol
who doesn't even have a cl-

ue; or capsize in a squall
and fructify your fibula,
or find yourself in the evil thrall
of drooling old Count Dribula;

or try to fake a Southern drawl
and fracture your papillae,
encouraging rhymes that are appall-
ing, ludicrous, and silly.

In short I'm glad, if y'had to maul
some part, it was your finger,
and that you did it with an awl.
Get well, and don't malinger!


[This message has been edited by Rose Kelleher (edited July 21, 2006).]