When Nurse Comes In
(Convalescent stage.)
THE stories sure are rich and rare,
They’d strike you blind, they’d turn your hair,
They’re dark as coal down in the bin—
Till Nurse comes in.
The language is an awful hue,
Astreak with crimson shades and blue;
‘Twould scorch a mammoth’s leather skin—
Till Nurse comes in.
Words run the gamut of the trench—
They beat old Mustard Gas for stench,
They rise with oscillating din—
Till Nurse comes in.
The cussin’s quaint and loud and strong,
Imported stuff, that don’t belong
In dictionaries fat or thin—
Till Nurse comes in.
And then you’d be surprised to hear
The change of pace, the shift o’ gear,
The dainty tales that just begin—
When Nurse comes in.
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