I’d rather have a cold than a cough,
Witness this phlegmatic morph.
When I have the flu, I feel smaller,
From a Wife I become a tiny Wifelet,
Won’t you please, make me an Omelette.
My head hurts, and throat itches,
Everything is slow, I move by inches,
Tissue paper over, I give you a holler.
I start rhyming when I have the flu,
I am regressing, yes, it’s true.
I sit surrounded by snot and balm,
Now, don’t ask me for the capital of Vietnam.