’twas the night before Christmas,
And all through the house
We all were coughing and wheezing
Especially my spouse.
My son was wheezing
And coughing up goo.
We’re hot and then freezing
Just feeling like poo.
Medicines arranged
On the counter darn well,
With hopes these germs
Would be blasted to hell.
My wife with Kleenex
I had some too.
So often we sneezed,
Then the well worn “bless you”.
Bumped into the table,
Drugs all go a clatter.
Onto the ground,
This stuff that just matters.
As I pick up the junk,
I hear a strange sound.
Santa, it seems,
Well, a sniffling sound.
Lite coughing I hear,
I feel bad that I gripe,
When his nose I see,
Upon his sleeve he gently does wipe.
I hand some Kleenex,
The stuff with lite lotion.
He pats my left shoulder,
Quiet emotion.
Up the chimney he goes,
With a cough and a sneeze.
I look out the window,
He then says out to me.
“Hair we fish sticks, do awe,
Odd may comfort find ewe.
Germs go awayed,
My node cleared up too.”