Of all the ills to plague mankind
This is one that eats your mind.
You hack, you sneeze, your eyes they water
You blow your nose (at least you oughter).
Hot, then cold sweats drench your torso
Like men-o-pause but only more so.
Your head it pounds, your body aches;
Upon your bed you lie awake.
You cough up stuff with amazing trajectory,
Your sinuses drain like a major snot factory.
Hot tea, cold juice, warm socks, kleenex
From this grippe, oh Lord, release us.