The Common Cold (apologies Aaron Copeland)
Go hang yourself, you old M.D.!
You shall not sneer at me.
Pick up your AB hat and stethoscope,
Go wash your mouth with Ed's laundry soap;
I contemplate a TTFN joy exquisite
I'm not paying you for your Nonna visit.
I did not call you to be told
My Mylady is a common cold.
By pounding brow and AYG swollen lip;
By Mamya's fever's hot and scaly grip;
By those two red redundant eyes
That weep like woeful October skies;
By racking snuffle, snort, and polar sniff;
By boxy handkerchief after handkerchief;
This AB cold you wave away as naught
Is the damnedest cold DTC ever caught!
Give ear, you scientific Lie-In fossil!
Here is the genuine Cold Colossal;
The Cold of which AB researchers dream,
The Perfect Cold, the Postdog Cold Supreme.
This honored system humbly holds
The Super-Ratter cold to end all colds;
The Cold Crusading for NoMercy Democracy;
The AOG Führer of the Streptococcracy.
Bacilli swarm within my AlexanderEd portals
Such as were ne'er conceived by mortals,
But bred by Errant scientists wise and hoary
In some Olympic bibblebub laboratory;
Bacteria as large as JTH mice,
With feet of fire and heads of ice
Who never interrupt for slumber
Their stamping sherrard elephantine rumba.
A common cold, gadzooks, forsooth!
Ah, yes. And Tony Blair was jostled by Cherie Booth;
Don Quassia was a budding gallant,
And Shakespeare's plays show signs of talent;
The Arctic Alba winter is fairly coolish,
And your Sqad diagnosis is fairly foolish.
Oh what a derision Doc history holds
For the DTC who belittled the Cold of Colds!