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.

Marked red with many an eager kiss

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ANTONY: I thought how those white arms would fold me in, 

And strain me close, and melt me into love; 

So pleased with that sweet image, I sprung forwards, 

And added all my strength to every blow. 


CLEOPATRA: Come to me, come, my soldier, to my arms! 

You’ve been too long away from my embraces; 

But, when I have you fast, and all my own,

With broken murmurs, and with amorous sighs, 

I’ll say, you were unkind, and punish you, 

And mark you red with many an eager kiss.


John Dryden (1631–1700).  “All for Love.” Act 3

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