Bad Cold by Shel Silverstein

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  This cold is too much for my shortsleeve. Go get me a Kleenex--and fast. I sniffle and wheeze And I'm ready to sneeze And I don't know how long I can last.... Atchoo--it's to wet for a kleenex, So bring me handkerchief, quick. It's--atchoo--no joke, Now the handkerchief's soaked. Hey, a dish towel just might do the trick. Atchoo--it's too much for bath towel. There never has been such a cold. I'll be better off With that big tablecloth, No--bring me the flag off the pole. Atchoo--bring the clothes from the closet, Atchaa--get the sheets from the bed, The drapes off the window, The rugs off the floor To soak up this cold in my head. Atchoo-- hurry down to the circus And ask if they'll lend you the tent. You say they said yes? Here it comes--Lord be blessed-- Here it is--Ah-kachoooo--there it went.

Confession

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To whom may I recount my sins,
with all their pains and woe?
And where shall my detail begin;
And who can stand to know?

My wicked tales in someone's ear--
how can I stain their head?
So how to tell and cast my fear
of sinful guilt and dread?

My own life cannot bear the load
of all that I have done!
How can I take you down my road?
There is none, save but One.

Confession gives the soul all good,
so who should stoop to hear?
'Tis Jesus Christ (thank God alone),
He all my life can bear.

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