Oh, how I envy the common woman,
Free to let herself roam,
Walking the world and its streets,
Dogs out; feeling for a bone.
But I cannot join her, this woman,
On her quest to free her toes.
Alas, I must keep them hidden.
Hidden from friends and foes.
For you see, gentle reader,
With your sumptuous, brittle talons,
I cannot display my grotesque paws,
Not even in nail salons.
I wish I could, for just one day,
Go to hall in just ‘slider-no-sock’,
But I know what would befall me:
All you at lunch – ready to mock.
So, you may wonder, dear reader,
Why I hold this sorrowful inflection.
That is because, my Oriel pals,
I have a fungal toenail infection.