Common Cold lyrics

The common cold is a curse

In its honour I spend a purse

For medicines that help me breath

Lying motionless in my woolen sheath

A nasal deluge, and knocking head

Feeling misery, coughing in bed

No more to sleep blissfully now

To shutter amidst, with dampened brow

Curse the soul that dealt me this

This is not something I would miss

Donations accepted of Kleenex tissue

Run like hell on hearing "Achoo!"

The common cold is my mortal curse

So said I, now in a shiny black hearse

Cabinet of dispensed medicines still

The ailment cured, but who pays the bill