IF horror's cup is no yet full, An' something left still in my skull, Inspire me with an extra pull Ye Muses nine, That I the pangs sublime may cull To grace my rhyme. Auld grum'lin' toothache's had his day -- Has spun his discontented lay; Why don't he stuff his stumps an' stay His achin' jaw? Or by a dentist's tak' his way? 'Twad flee awa. Or if he finds that's no enough, He needna therefore tak' the huff; For I can put him up to snuff, Withoot a doot: Just tak' the deevil by the cuff An' pu' him oot. But try an' pu' Lumbago oot -- 'Twill tak' us a' oor time I doot; Or even let us try an' foot Sax miles a day, Or in oor beds e'en turn aboot, Just if you may. While on the back we lie an' groan, He tickles up the marrow bone Wi' torture's sublimated prong, An' mak's us yell! There's nane I ken can come't as strong As he himsel'. Rheumatics -- hech! but ye're nae joke; You're no the chap I'd like to mock, Or e'en your anger to provoke By jibe or jeer; That ye're a gey revengefu' bloke, The fact is clear. Noo, in my time I've had my share O' pangs an' sorrows, an' to spare, An', by the gods! I here declare -- Jingo and Jago! 'Gainst a' the ills that flesh is heir, I'll @3back@1 Lumbago. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON HUNTINGDON'S 'MIRANDA' by SIDNEY LANIER THE DANCERS by KATHERINE HARRIS BRADLEY THE OLD ARM-CHAIR by ELIZA COOK THE BONNIE BLUE FLAG by ANNIE CHAMBERS KETCHUM A DEDICATION by ALFRED TENNYSON FRIAR JEROME'S BEAUTIFUL BOOK; A.D. 1200 by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE HARVEST by EVA K. ANGLESBURG LINES WRITTEN BY A DEATH-BED by MATTHEW ARNOLD TO SIR JOHN SPENSER KNIGHTE, ALDERMAN OF LONDON by RICHARD BARNFIELD |