The Common Cold -- a verse for a sniffly Friday

I thought this little poem rather appropriate for the day, since what I thought to be simply allergy troubles has turned into something more than that -- I have a cold!  And what's worse, it's a summer cold, and those are always icky.  So I am taking it easy today -- not much else I can do, actually -- and filling myself up with all my favorite home remedies.

It's not as easy as one might think to find a poem about colds, but I did find one, and it made me laugh -- which is part of cold therapy, you know.  ;-)  While I am not quite as miserable as this poor fellow, I can definitely relate to his tale of woe.  Bet you all have thought similar thoughts after visiting the doc, hoping for a cure for your malady -- or a least a bit of sympathy!

Common Cold

by Ogden Nash

Go hang yourself, you old M.D,!
You shall not sneer at me.
Pick up your hat and stethoscope,
Go wash your mouth with laundry soap;
I contemplate a joy exquisite
In not paying you for your visit.
I did not call you to be told
My malady is a common cold.

By pounding brow and swollen lip;
By fever's hot and scaly grip;
By those two red redundant eyes
That weep like woeful April skies;
By racking snuffle, snort, and sniff;
By handkerchief after handkerchief;
This cold you wave away as naught
Is the damnedest cold man ever caught!

Give ear, you scientific fossil!
Here is the genuine Cold Colossal;
The Cold of which researchers dream,
The Perfect Cold, the Cold Supreme.
This honored system humbly holds
The Super-cold to end all colds;
The Cold Crusading for Democracy;
The Führer of the Streptococcracy.

Bacilli swarm within my portals
Such as were ne'er conceived by mortals,
But bred by scientists wise and hoary
In some Olympic laboratory;
Bacteria as large as mice,
With feet of fire and heads of ice
Who never interrupt for slumber
Their stamping elephantine rumba.

A common cold, gadzooks, forsooth!
Ah, yes. And Lincoln was jostled by Booth;
Don Juan was a budding gallant,
And Shakespeare's plays show signs of talent;
The Arctic winter is fairly coolish,
And your diagnosis is fairly foolish.
Oh what a derision history holds
For the man who belittled the Cold of Colds!