Sure Cure Poem by Ima Ryma

I was a fearless four year old.
Grandma's front porch was my domain.
I grabbed a wasp. It stung me bold.
Grandma's lovin' helped ease the pain.
Later I saw that wasp again,
And watched it fly into the shed.
I snuck up and followed it in,
And found a whole wasps' nest instead.
I shut the door so none could flee,
And took a hammer to that nest.
Grandma heard cries and came found me.
Doc gave me a slim chance at best.

But, I survived to tell the tale.
My Grandma's lovin' would not fail.