On the occasion of Robert Burns’ 259 birthday yesterday.
My love is like red red roses
Uttered Bobby Burns to she
Newly sprung in June he supposes
Good thing he didn’t say it to me.
I know those new red red roses
Aphids and beetles do assail
While fragrance goes up our noses
They are blitzed by fungus and scale.
Bobby Burns you can keep your rose
I have no interest in the work.
Why is it a red rose you chose?
You didn’t do your homework, jerk.
(A quatrain poem)