When I wake up feeling sick,
a stomach flu has held me quick.
There is no food I dare to eat,
lest I run to the bathroom seat.
I lay about in bed all day,
a sickly man's a sad display.
A women will thus tell you true,
quite soon she'd ship him to Peru.
But I am one who has no nurse,
so must endure this health reverse.
Relying on my very wit,
assuring others I'm most unfit.
Longing for a sudden cure.
Will help come? It seems unclear.
The one sure way I can regroup,
a healthy bowl of chicken soup.