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9-ISSUE 2 > Till All the Drip Dries Up
by A.S. Kaswell
(with apologies to Robert Burns)
(NOTE: this can be sung to the tune of “Auld
O, my love’s got a red, red nose
That’s never grown immune
To any sort of malady,
Especially in June.
You’ll soon get well, my boney lass.
Now please dilate your eye,
And I will give you drops, my Dear,
To help your nose go dry.
Till all the drip dries up, my Dear,
And all the swelling goes,
Relax — the likelihood is nil
That you will decompose.
© Copyright 2003 Annals
of Improbable Research (AIR)
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