One day, one rhyme- Day 1418
It seems Amy has the lurgy,
Perhaps even the plague.
She’s “on deaths door,” or otherwise
Something equally vague.
She’s a “gross clod of contagion,”
Not to be seen by kin-
Unless you’ve brought KitKats or Twix,
In which case, come on in,
But keep your distance, mark my words
For if you do succumb
Who’d take care of the two of you?
The likely culprit? Mum.
‘Not I,” says she, I’ve something on,
I really must be off.”
‘Not I,” Dads making tracks, even
Has found a hat to doff.
‘Not I,” the neighbour checks her watch,
“Oh wow, is that the time?
Ive got to go, I’m performing
A stand-up show in mime.”
Nan would, but she’s this other thing
She simply can’t avoid,
“Its work.” Then out she flees ‘ere they
Realize she’s unemployed.
It seems to empty Amy’s house
All that you have to do
Is say you’re sick, and ask them all
To come take care of you.