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My nose runneth over,
And I sneezeth, too,
I should runneth for cover,
I may haveth the flu.

I can't talketh, for instance,
'Cuz my throats soreth, too,
So, keepeth your distance,
Lest I cougheth on you.

My eyes both are reddened,
And they watereth, too,
Yet, I am not saddened,

There's some grace I receiveth,
When I bursteth forth with "Achoo,"
For I cannot deceiveth,
I liketh the "Bless you's."

Author-Virginia Ellis


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