It spread up to her abdomen, then started on her nose

Which, large enough already and ripe for rhinoplasty

Soon looked more like a traffic cone, and friends said “Ooh, that’s nasty”

She rushed to see her GP – who quickly got quite cross

Most probably a virus, but else defies description”

And having nothing else to say, he scribbled a prescription

Now GPs and calligraphy, these things don’t go together

More chalk and cheese if truth be told, than two birds of a feather

But this here takes the biscuit – it says you’ve got the Scrisms!” 

Some folks with brand new ailments achieve a certain fame

‘Though as Bill Shakespeare (didn’t) write, “What’s in a bloody name?”

But Dervla snapped, “That’s gibberish!” and shedding a small tear

Opined that lots of doctors were fans of Edward Lear

A specialist consulted, just gazed at Dervla’s skin

She thought the sight amusing and she tried to hide her grin

So soon poor Dervla’s body, was full of throbbing scrisms

Attracting lots of insults and sundry witticisms

‘Twas worse than tennis elbow, flu, piles, or jogger’s nipple

Her skin, by now bright crimson, began to glow a little

Now her unique condition soon made the T.V. news

At first the press attention helped banish Dervla’s blues

The papers had their new buzzword, like Winehouse, Beckham, hoodie

Dervla joined the ranks of those we call ‘celebrities’

And briefly found that what she did was guaranteed to please

She wrote a book - or ghosted it, (the Jordan type of thing)

And also made an album, although she couldn’t sing

Her figure, once quite shapely, began to slowly grow

Until she was a tad rotund, for Dervla quite a blow

The press tagged her ‘The Big Red One’, an unkind appellation

And tired of her, they all withdrew their fickle approbation

So Dervla chose to stay indoors as the scrisms grew apace

What looked like small volcanoes were now forming on her face

Best friends and all her family helped keep her spirits high

And when she asked “Do I look gross?” they’d tell her a white lie

One afternoon, just 6 months on, and Dervla, taking tea

Felt her scrisms start to hiss and yelled “Oh, bugger me”

Then with piercing popping sounds like those from some large rifle

They all burst, flew round the room (some landed in the trifle)

When all was done, the dining room was in an awful mess

Pus & goo dripped down the walls and on her mum’s new dress

The tea laid out, was plastered and had a brand new flavour

'Though pustule coated sandwiches aren’t edibles to savour

Her skin was soon a healthy pink, without one single mark

And she could go out when she liked and not just after dark

I’m glad to say that scrisms wasn’t diagnosed again

For GPs typed prescriptions and ignored the ball point pen

And anyone who wants to keep from writing odes like these

Just take a little tip from me; at night time don’t eat cheese!