There hailed a vast rose bush,
Whose occupants always said, “shush!”
These occupants were so very old,
But one thought she was worth her weight in gold.
With a hustle and a bustle, she said,
“Oh! Why do I live on this thorn bed?”
I might rip a precious little petal,
How can I? I’m so very subtle.
An elderly rose said, “My, my!,
These youngsters are more luxurious than thy.”
They said that Van Gogh painted subtle,
But here this little bud thinks she’s the title.
Ah! Well, what can we say?
Let’s just have a merry day.
All’s well when it ends well,
And they say I just struck across a bell!