It’s odd but somehow I prefer
My tongue without a coat of fur;
A throat that doesn’t hurt to swallow;
My sinuses all nice and hollow;
A nose that knows is what it is for,
With two clear nostrils, too, what’s more;
A mind producing clear-cut thoughts;
A body fit for active sports.
Instead, some nasty substance bungs
My ears, while coughing hurts my lungs,
Producing little blobs of phlegm
At 2 and 4 and 6 AM;
A nose that pours so, feeling frail,
I leave a paper-hanky trail.
With woolly, indecisive head
I toss and turn around the bed,
Disgruntled, sore and feeling old
– I do so hate to have a cold!
