Cold Poem by Phil Daniels

That nasty thing called a cold
Advances upon the young and old
It attacks fat or thin and all
Of those whether short or tall

It attacks the throat and the ears
Runny nose and then the tears
Oh the aches and then the pains
As it presses and squeeze my brains

Into all my muscles and joints
Racing into all my points
For now I cannot run away
My arms and legs they have no say

And so through this sickly time
I drink the medicine and whine
Shiver freeze and then I sweat
I know I'm getting better you bet

So that nasty old cold
Thought it was brave and bold
It is in fast retreat
At last at last I have it beat

19/5/99