She wondered on the price of pickled beets in Spain.
I told my nurse I'd hurt my head;
She wondered if she would ever wed.
I told my nurse my noggin ached;
She wondered if the buns were baked.
I told my nurse my neck was sore;
She wondered who was at the door.
I told my nurse my heart was fast;
She took a bun--it was the last.
I told my nurse my tum was queasy;
She asked the dog to play parcheesi.
I told my nurse my knees were quaking;
She said the lawn--it needed raking.
I told my nurse my toes were numb;
She looked at me and sucked her thumb.
In despair, I climbed the chair
And whacked her with my cricket bat--
It toppled Nurse's feathered hat.
My nurse told me she had a pain;
I wondered on the price of pickled beets in Spain.
My mother and I wrote this in 2006, totally spur of the moment nursery rhyming. The phrase "The price of pickled beets in Spain" came up (yes, phrases like this just happen in my world), and we thought it sounded like a nursery rhyme, so we wrote one. I found it in a notebook while cleaning, and thought it deserved resurrection.
Silly poetry is my anti-Koran burning.