Working in a nursing home can be fun,
those darling old folks sure have me on the run,
like Mrs. Butt who says, I need to brush my boots,
or the nice old man, Huckerbee, who calls is salad roots.
Oh dear, my sciences are blocked cries Sadie,
she is sweet but her mind is just a little too scary,
at mealtimes she is always looking for salt for her tea,
she likes to wander up and down the halls following me.
It may be a pigment of my imagination,
but I am exhausted, must be time for vacation,
after I chase them down, I lay them down to sleep,
each dear soul safe under a pure white hospital sheet.
And as I turn off the light, a soul is praying,
blessed at thou, Frail Mory . . . .
June 27, 2012
For the contest, Malapropisms and Mondegreens