Scannell, in this poem, paints a narrative where his son falls into a pile of pointy nettles and he and presumably his partner take care of their son to remove the burning and pain of these nettles. After that the author goes back behind to the shed where the bed of nettles grows and cuts them down prior to burning them. Within a short time, these nettles grow back and it is concluded that, “My son would often feel sharp wounds again.”