Father Christmas has come a day early and has bestowed a chest infection upon my daughter.
We were up for the greater part of last night looking after her.
A lack of sleep can lead you to do strange things…
No, not quite.
All’s not quiet,
All’s not right.
Little girl is full of snot.
Coughing and crying in her cot.
Everything was green.
‘Til we wiped it clean.
Oh little girl from Cape Town,
How still you just won’t lie.
And in thy deeply fitful sleep,
You sniff and cough and cry.
Yet in the bedroom just next door,
Your brother’s trying to sleep.
Your wails and tears are ringing in his ears
And causing him to weep.
I am putting my faith in some festive third-generation cephalosporins.