FEELIN’ YUCKY

I really didn’t sleep well last dight,
This bornin’ I looked ad awful sight,
My froat is sore, by bones all ache,
Even by steady hand does shake.

By ead is all fuzzy, I can’think,
It is a good job that I don’tdrink,
For by ead is sore, I feel sick,
To smile and go od that’s the trick.

First I’m ot then all shivery coud,
By dose is red, a sight to beold,
I soud like a dog with a fuddy bark
Ad this morning I wasn’t up with the lark.

I jus wan oo curl up in bed ad sleep,
But if I do dat, when I will creep
Into bed to dight I will be wide awake,
Den what will I do for gooddess sake?

I hate feeling yucky and biserable as sid,
I would rather be up and doin, outside or id,
So go away coud, please leabe me alode,
For I don’t want to sit around and mode.

M Ann Margetson with a cold. © December 5, 2000