Improbable Research

Till All the Drip Dries Up

(The Doctor’s Woeful, Skinny Spouse)

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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