This poem is reproduced here with the kind permission of its author. You can see more of Peter Wyllie's poetry on his website at http://www.proverse.co.uk/.
The British Council is not responsible for the content of external internet sites.
Double-click on any word and see its definition from Cambridge Dictionaries Online.
Read the poem and then do an activity to see if you have understood it. Then do some writing yourself and see texts written by other readers.
You can also listen to this poem: Download mp3 file or listen on your PC To download, right-click on the link above, choose 'Save target as', and select where you want to save the file. If you're a using a Mac, simply double-click on the link and use the on-screen window to select the file's destination. If you want to listen on your PC, just left click and the file will play in your default player. For Mac users, click the link. (Print poem and do activity on paper) (pdf file - 68 KB)
The nurse said, "You're sweaty and smelly, The odour is nasty and rank; So let's get you down to the bathroom And get you cleaned up in the tank.
The bath was a weird contraption With strange looking tubes and a door; It stood, like a Henry Moore sculpture On a plinth bolted down to the floor.
She filled up the bath-well with water And I eased myself into the seat. Then with lots of squeaking and creaking The bath tilted, lifting my feet.
I lay back; the water kept rising 'Til my bits were all covered in foam. The nurse shouted "God! It is leaking, I don't think the lever's pushed home."
We fiddled about with the door latch, We gave it a pull and a push, But the door gave a creak, and flew open And the water poured out with a rush!
It ran like a stream through the bathroom It splashed in a flood on the floor; And then like the Bore in the Severn It escaped to the ward, through the door.
In a flotsam of bedpans and boxes The flood soon took over the ward. The life rafts were brought out of the lockers Where, for years, they had safely been stored.
Ducks flew in the windows and nested; Steve Redgrave turned up with his oar. An orchestra played in the background A version of "Pull for the Shore".
It wasn't too long 'til the carnage Was much worse than anyone feared. Tony Blair "whistle-stopped" for a sound bite And even Kate Winslet appeared
"Enough!" Cried the nurse; "This is crazy!" She reached over and pulled out the plug The floodwaters swirled down the drain hole 'Til the last drop slipped down with a glug
The ward very soon became normal Except that the floors were quite clean, And everyone said that it now looked The shiniest that it had been.
The moral, in all of this story, Is, if patients perspire and sweat Then let them stay smelly and stinking If you do not want to get wet.
Peter Wyllie ©Copyright; MasterRevelation
Your turn
Write a poem about a "disaster". Send us your poem.
Disaster
If only you had tried a little more. If only you had looked carefully. If only you had told everything. If only you had listened. If only you had thought. Probably you would not have caused this disaster.
Eric Ramirez Rodriguez
top
|