When you're lying awake with a dismal headache
and repose is tabood by anxiety,
I perceive you may chose any language you chose to indulge in, without impropriety.
Your brain is on fire, the bedclothes conspire of your usual slumber to plunder you.
First the counterpane goes and uncovers your toes,
then the sheet slips demurely from under you!
......and so back to bed xx
(with apologies to whoever wrote the poem)
