With due apologies To Robert Burns ( Like a Red Red Rose)
Oh my nose is like a red red rose,
With drops of dew it blooms,
Oh my throat is like a broken flute
That hoarsely croaks a tune!
As I have a sneezing bout,
I think I have the flu,
How I got it my bonnie lass,
I havent the foggiest clue!
I havent the foggiest clue, my dear
But dear God I feel so ill,
Better nought come near me, I fear
You just might get those chills!
So fare thee well, while I do rest,
And recover from this aching flu,
'tis indeed worthy and best,
That I take a break from you.