I have a complaint, she was not aptly named
If the girl was so shy and disarming;
I’ve wrestled with roses the whole afternoon
And believe me they’re not ruddy charming.
A big briar rose had grown up through a bush
And like long ghostly fingers kept tapping,
Disturbing the dog with the intrusive sound
And awaking her when she was napping.
Now if she’s asleep and awoken too quick
She will jump to her post to defend me,
That is all well and good when there’s reason to bark
But a rose is supposed to be friendly.
So as all the blooms have now faded away
Out I went armed with bin bag and shears;
Within a few seconds I’m all tangled up
And it’s got me from ankle to ears.
There is blood dripping down from a number of cuts
From the thorns that are savage and vicious,
The damn thing whips back and gets hold of my hair
With a grip that is downright malicious.
The dog who is watching all this through the pane
Then decides that her service is needed
And sets up a barking to wake up the dead
While my shushing is going unheeded.
It’s right at this moment the salesman arrives
And proceeds, with a smile, to deliver
His well-practiced spiel with a confident air
Till he catches my eye with a shiver.
“I’ll call back again,” he says backing away
And I manage to answer politely,
That if he comes back he’ll be well out of luck
And the dog can eat salesmen twice nightly.
It took me an hour to free myself then
From the briar’s tenacious advances,
But blood-streaked and battered I cut the thing back
For the year… I was taking no chances.
So next time you read about sweet Briar Rose…
Of her life and the way she preserved it…
Just ponder on this; if the girl’s aptly named
There’s a bloody good chance she deserved it!
From the archives and Laughter Lines: Life at the Tail End: