She screamed with a punch and a kick
That she never faultered or ever got sick,
So, now she's ready for a shot or a pill
Poor Rebecca, has fell ill.
She is a runner and a fitness coach and a trainer
For her to stay in shape it is a no brainer,
She dedicated her life to always stay in shape
I bet that she could fly, if she only had a cape.
Unto the God of fitness she never did pray
Never one word of "thanks" did she ever thought or say,
But, she bragged over and over with a defiant shrug
That she'll never catch that nasty flu bug.
Now she's lying fevered up in her bed
"Cough"! "Sniffles" goes her stuffed up head,
No matter the strength of the body, or the will
Poor Rebecca, has fell ill.
Randy L. McClave
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem