Twas the day after Christmas and all through the house
Carrie preps some salt water, her strep throat to douse
She has a sore throat and an ear ache to boot
(also a bum ankle, but that point’s really moot)
She’s nestled all snug in her warm purple bed
in the hopes that she’ll make it to morning, not dead
In fleece pants she lounges and hoodie, no bra
She’s feeling like Christmas is a humbug, a BAH.
When out in the den, a sound did ring out
It’s piercing high noise nearly gave her the gout? (not really.)
She rolled from the bed in a granny-like fashion
and hobbled down the hallway with a true lack of passion
She slid on the rug and nearly took a fall
And banged her elbow shouting, “#@*% WALL!”
She rounded the corner and what did appear?
That danged little bird that she really does fear.
She forgot that her parents were traveling down south
And left her this birdcage, with birdie’s big mouth.
“Hey Tweety, shut up or i’ll cut your beak off,
and i bet i’d get backup from the sleepless Gandalf.”
With a wink of an eye, Carrie went back to bed
where she laid… lied… lain… back on her pillow her pretty red head.
She’ll dream that Amoxicillin does not cause diarrhea,
but will stay near the bathroom just in ca…. oh, see ya!