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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 Lang Syne”)
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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