Henry's Wintergreen

Abrasive rugby's aimlessness
Limping home with bitterness
Hoofed studs meant to render
Inside top of thigh so tender

Called in at grandmother's dutifully
Tale of woe recounted traumatically
'I think it must be broken'
Words so bravely spoken

Grandmother's attentive to the pain
Why it's only a little sprain
Stop fussing, take heed,
This is all you'll need

A panacea from a Welsh colleen
Called Henry's Wintergreen
A timeless remedy of fiery liniment
Warming relief to mirth and merriment

Back home late, 'tea's in oven over there'
The wounded soldier limps up the stair
Applying ointment with generous cover
Another inventive tale to brother

Snuggling down with warming thought
Of lingeried ladies, but with nought
Unwashed hands went loinward probing
Fiery, aflame, burning, blazing, numbing

Well it fixed my leg all right
I got up at the speed of light
Brother's wondrous stare, raucous cackle
At he new enlarged block and tackle

Bathed coldness brings slight relief
At a pain stronger than fear or grief
Diminishing torment to lucidity
Strange though no flaccidity

So don't court me with tongue and feather
Because now I've got balls of leather
Don't become another love's has-been
Just bring a tube of Henry's Wintergreen