Here is an idea, that I thought would lead to a story about Bertha, but instead became another hue and cry, regarding the weighty issues of the day.

Buxom and Girth

Oh Bertha, with the buxom bosom
Had sepsis, pneumonia and shock,
To keep her alive, we infused 30 liters
Adding four-stone, yea, ad-hoc.

Each turn in the bed for her skin care
‘Twould take the muscles of 3 mighty nurses,
Pausing to share a reflection
And sort out their favorite curses.

With a gnashing of teeth and straining of spine
The three groaned in triplicate unity,
Knowing quite well if they busted their backs
The hospital would deny with impunity,
Claiming, we have the equipment
To help move dear Bertha around,
Instead we were rash, we hurried and gnashed
Now they’ll bury us deep in the ground.

Suffice to say, we nurses are tougher
From the keel-haul, we had this past decade,
Throw anything at us, and we will just cuss
We don’t succumb, to the brute or the blade,
Better to back Nurses, than Wall Street
Unlike a mortgaged account, we add worth,
Protect the nurses, the backbone of the workforce
In this arena of buxom and girth.

Fibril_late;
3/1/09