I’m feeling rather delicate; <br />perhaps it’s something that I ate. <br />My stomach’s complains bitterly <br />It churns and churns incessantly. <br /> <br />I’m feeling bloated full of gas, <br /> the pressure builds but will no pass. <br />It is becoming serious <br /> I’m feeling really nauseous. <br /> <br />Then suddenly I feel the urge <br /> a desperate need to go and purge. <br /> I go and sit upon the throne. <br /> Ah. Such relief I’ve never known. <br /> <br />I get but little sympathy. <br /> My wife declares that I should be <br />aware of my capacity. <br />That too much beer is bad for me. <br /> <br />She might be right I must admit <br />which does not mean I must like it. <br />I rather have some sympathy. <br /> Perhaps a nice hot cup of tea.<br /><br />ivor or ivor.e hogg<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/aftermath-for-friend-thad/
