Winter Complaint

Ogden Nash

              Now when I have a cold
              I am careful with my cold,
              I consult a physician
              And I do as I am told.
              I muffle up my torso
              In woolly woolly garb,
              And I quaff great flagons
              Of sodium bicarb.
              I munch on aspirin,
              I lunch on water,
              And I wouldnít dream of osculating
              Anybodyís daughter,
              And to anybodyís son
              I wouldnít say howdy,
              For I am a sufferer
              Magna cum laude.
              I donít like germs,
              But Iíll keep the germs Iíve got.
              Will I take a chance of spreading them?
              Definitely not.
              I sneeze out the window
              And I cough up the flue,
              And I live like a hermit
              Till the germs get through.
              And because Iím considerate,
              Because Iím wary,
              I am treated by my friends
              Like Typhoid Mary.

              Now when you have a cold
              You are careless with your cold,
              You are cocky as a gangster
              Who has just been paroled.
              You ignore your physician,
              You eat steaks and oxtails,
              You stuff yourself with starches,
              You drink lots of cocktails,
              And you claim that gargling
              Is a time of waste,
              And you wonít take soda
              For you donít like the taste,
              And you prowl around parties
              Full of selfish bliss,
              And greet your hostess
              With a genial kiss.
              You convert yourself
              Into a deadly missle,
              You exhale Helloís
              Like a steamboat wistle.
              You sneeze in the subway
              And you cough at dances,
              And let everybody else
              Take their own good chances.
              Youíre a bronchial boor,
              A bacterial blighter,
              And you get more invitations
              Than a gossip writer.

              Yes, your throat is froggy,
              And your eyes are swimmy,
              And you hand is clammy,
              And you nose is brimmy,
              But you woo my girls
              And their hearts you jimmy
              While I sit here
              With the cold you gimmy.