And I suppose
a rose that's on the nose
could be
an unwashed pantyhose.
Let us compose
a bit of prose
for those
whose water froze
a story of the gardenhose.
And there it goes,
his friends and foes
yelled ah's and oh's
when stepped upon their toes.
And if you're close
to her who chose
her private woes
you must expose
the wrath that grows.
Herbert Nehrlich
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/no-rose/
