Possum
'An so Doreen, she nurses me while I lie there an' grouch;
Fer I'm snarky when I tumble that it ain't me dyin' couch.
I barks at 'er, an' snarls at 'er, an' orders 'er about,
An' nearly wears the feet orf 'er wiv trottin' in an' out.
An' while Ole Man Sciatiker, 'e 'as me in 'is sway
Doreen, she jist gives in to me—an' alwus gits 'er way.
Three solid days I 'as uv it, an' then the pain lets out
I'm feeling' fit fer graft again, an' wants to git about.
It's then she lets me see 'er 'and, an' orders, "You stay there
Until yeh gits yer 'ealth an' strength to sit up in a chair."
"But there's that stove-wood," I begins. Sez she, "Now, don't you fret.
I'm very sparin' wiv it, an' there's tons an' tons there yet."
Tell yeh straight; I got to like it. It's a crook thing to confess,
But to 'ave 'er fussin' round me give me chunks uv 'appiness.
So I gits out in the garden wiv an arm-chair an' a rug,
An' I comes the floppin' invaleed, an' makes meself reel snug.
