F U Spells Flu

Please let it be false, oh, don't let it be true
That the love of my life has a porcine flu.
I'll take care of you, serving you chicken soup from a credenza,
As long as it doesn't give you avian influenza.

I hope and I pray with all my might
That the bug that plagues you won't last the night,
Or if it does, that it won't be that bad,
'Cause to lose my sweet honey would make me excruciatingly sad.

I'll give you plenty of fluids and plenty of meds,
And plenty of rest in our plenty of beds,
And I'll do all in my power to take care of you,
Even if it means that I get sick too.

But I guess that's just one's lot in life,
To take care of his ill, sick, tired, poor little wife,
And help her to get better really quick,
So she can care for him when he gets sick.