[625] The Sniffle

Guest poem submitted by Anustup Datta, <Anustup.Datta@>:

In spite of her sniffle
Isabel's chiffle.
Some girls with a sniffle
Would be weepy and tiffle;
They would look awful,
Like a rained-on waffle,
But Isabel's chiffle
In spite of her sniffle.
Her nose is more red
With a cold in her head,
But then, to be sure,
Her eyes are bluer.
Some girls with a snuffle,
Their tempers are uffle.
But when Isabel's snivelly
She's snivelly civilly,
And when she's snuffly
She's perfectly luffly.

	-- Ogden Nash

There's a nasty little bug going round Bangalore and pretty wisps of lace
and cambric are everywhere ("A handkerchief, my dear, is a tissue that you
don't throw away."). If all the pretty young things sniffling around the
city were laid end-to-end, I (and Dorothy parker) wouldn't be a bit
surprised. This is a dedication to all the colds-in-the-head this flu
season, in Beantown and elsewhere.

Alert Minstrels readers will remember another Ogden Nash gem on the common
cold (Poem no. 325) - this is more whimsical, and even more delightfully,
utterly Nash-esque (Nash-ian? Nash-istic?).

Anustup.