Singing songs to omicron,
trying to get my vaccine on.
All this Covid variation
makes me long for a vacation.
Either an edenic field
or hermetically sealed.
Just somewhere the germs won’t spread,
or ’til everybody’s dead.
Virus, virus, burning bright,
please move to some other site.
Bezos, take it out to space.
Lay it on some alien race.
Nobel science, find a cure.
This is too much to endure.
Omicron, now what is next?
All the usual suspects.
Bat flu grew into a plague,
origins extremely vague.
Where and when it might mutate
on our planet’s petri plate
will determine the next surge
in this downhill people purge.
And so the songs of omicron
just go on and on and on.
