Saturday, 19 May 2012

A song of...

A song of Spri......spri....sp.....s.....s....ACHOO! *sniff*

Your skin is clammy, your nose is red
you're wishing now that you stayed in bed.
You chose to go on to work instead,
Now you're ill, and you're tired and have green sleeves.

The pollen count is now really high,
The newsmen say. And so that is why
You're out of tissues, and red of eye
And your sneezing's the reason for green sleeves.

Green sleeves, they are what you wear
When you go out-doors in the hay-filled air
You look a mess and it's just not fair
Full of snot, burning hot, and two green sleeves.

It's spring and everything wants to breed
Every tree and flower, every bush and weed
It is plant bukake, which you then breathe
And each Springtime's a grim time with Green sleeves.

So every spring when the world turns green
You head for Boots, and buy, sight unseen,
Any drug that has antihistamine
And attempt at prevention of green sleeves.

Green sleeves, it is floral porn
From early May, and from Early dawn
It makes you wish you had not been born
You have issues, no tissues, just green sleeves.

And when at last you can take no more
and they find you dead on the kitchen floor
Your coffin glides through that final door
To the haunting refrain that is Greensleeves..

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