Oh Woe Is Me
Oh woe is me! Oh woe is me!
A man has fallen on my feet, you see,
And I have places that I must be,
But I cannot wriggle free!
Oh woe am I! Oh woe am I!
On my feet, this sleeping man shall lie
Until I will starve and certainly die!
I cannot get my feet from under this guy!
Oh woe I am! Oh woe I am!
He's sleeping heavily, as a lamb,
But I wish he would wake so he could scram!
But I guess this guy doesn't give a damn.
Oh woe is he, oh woe is he
Now that he has made me mad, you see.
On my feet he shall no longer be,
And I will soon be woe-free.
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Comments about this poem (Oh Woe Is Me by David Wicks )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(7 May 1861 – 7 August 1941)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- A Homage To The Freedom Fighters Of India, Raja Basu
- Daffodils, William Wordsworth
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- If, Rudyard Kipling
- Tonight I can write the saddest lines, Pablo Neruda
- Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night, Dylan Thomas
- Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, Robert Frost
- All the World's a Stage, William Shakespeare
- A Poison Tree, William Blake
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