The Miracle Cure!
I feel so sad that I could cry,
And so darned tired that I could die...
I feel as wilted as a flower,
And can’t go on, I’ve no more power.
Call me dejected, down at heart,
Broken, wretched, pulled apart,
Footsore, weary, awfully cold;
My aching joints are feeling old.
But here’s my wife to cheer me up!
In her hands a steaming cup;
Is it coffee, is it tea?
No, chicken soup she has brought me!
That’s all it takes to make me feel,
A lot less glum, less down at heel.
In fact it gets me quite excited,
With chicken soup I am delighted;
There’s nothing better as a cure,
When you are 'lying' at death’s door!
© Stephen Saunders
To book Stephen for a rhyming evening:
bowleyfarm@gmail.com or 01428 741212
Agent / publisher wanted.
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