When she’d clipped and arranged and with water anointed
the roses I’d brought her, she looked disappointed.
“These roses aren’t flagrant,” my lady-love said,
but she suffered a horrible cold in her head,
and recently testy, lately each word
she uttered was also slightly absurd.
She was given to certain extreme mis-pronouncements
Like “Dode wad adudder” and other announcements
when I offered a hot and whisky-laced toddy
to coat her sore throat and to comfort her body.
The simplest of pleasures may be greeted with dread
by a bellicose lady with a cold in her head.
And her talent with words, be it poetry or prose,
doesn’t work orally with a plugged nose!