Not New, Still Weird

This January Slate piece explains a trivial hoax committed by Laura Bush. She told an audience that George had written her this poem:

Dear Laura,

Roses are red, violets are blue, oh my lump in the bed, how I've missed you.

Roses are redder, bluer am I, seeing you kissed by that charming French guy.

The dogs and the cat they miss you too, Barney's still mad you dropped him, he ate your shoe.

The distance my dear has been such a barrier, next time you want an adventure, just land on a carrier.


Laura later admitted that no, George didn't write the poem, and why would any believe he had? What seems more relevant is why he or she or anybody else would possibly call her "my lump in the bed". It's just hideous.