C
Yay, a poem about my nose
And why they all growses I really can’t guess.
No lilies or roses, just cold-catching noses,
And when they all blowses, it’s really a mess.
They runs and they glowses, these sneezity noses,
They drips and they flowses, they blooms and they dies.
But you can’t bring no noses to fine flower showses
And really expect them to give you a prize.
But each mornin’ I goeses to water with hoses
These rowses of noses that I cannot sell,
These red sniffly noses that cause all my woeses,
Why even the crowses complain that they smell. Why noses, not roses? Well, nobody knowses.
Why do you supposes they growses this thick?
But since there’s no roses come gather some noses --
I guarantee each one’s a good nose to pick.
Courtesy of Mr. Shel Silverstine
