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 I'm 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!
