Tuesday, December 14, 2010

To a Louse, after Three Weeks With No Relief in Sight

Wee obligate para’sitical beastie,
O, what a party’s on her heidie!
Thou’s gae’n about being nasty
Above her chin!
I’m nae laith to rin an' chase thee,
Wi' murdering PermetherinTM.

I'm nae sorry man's dominion
Has broken Nature's social union,
Long syne thy hematophagic lugger.
Which sets me child tae scratchin’
At you, my oviparous bugger
Up there a hatchin’!

I doubt na, whyles, her blud may thieve;
What then? thou booger, thou maun live!
A drap or ickle o’ that serum
Is wha’ you’re suckin’;
I'll get a dose o’ interferon,
An' gie you a good...talkin’ to.

But Lousie, thou art such a pain,
And hard to pry from aft girlie's brain:
The best-laid schemes o' lice an' men
Gang aft agley,
At least thine will, if the louse-cream
Gives you your conge’!

Still thou are blest, compared wi' me!
All you do is breed and flee:
But och! A fortnight or mair
She's still beloused!
And wi’ no daycare for me child,
I’m stuck i’ the house!

(Apologies to Robert Burns, and a hat tip to Lisa, who inspired this work)


Pluto said...

I've nearly posted 3-4 times but I managed to get off light during this phase of my kid's development so I don't really have anything to say other than "Good luck."

I have to admire your poem, it's very clever, particularly considering your probable state of mind.

Regarding the pictures of your kids in the last post, my older son pointed at them and said, "That's backward. The kids are supposed to drive the parents up the wall."

Lisa said...

I found myself reading this aloud in a Scottish brogue (as me mum read Burns to me.) Y'are a clever one, dear friend :) Sorry you are so bedeviled at the mo'. My sympathies, from afar.