Growing up, I saw the hanky carried everywhere;
Put in a breast pocket, used in dusting off a chair.
Grandma kept one in her purse, quite dainty, edged in lace.
She cleaned her glasses with it and would pat down her damp face.
My mother ironed them at night to keep them crisp and neat.
They came in awful handy during summer's throbbing heat.
(and for blowing noses they could never have been beat.)
A box of them with monograms was just the thing for dad;
For Christmas or his birthday, they sure seemed to make him glad.
Now I find that handkerchiefs are relics of the past,
Shunned as unhygienic, they leave youngsters all aghast.
Most people carry tissues which are easy to dispose,
But tissues are not sturdy and cannot stand many blows.
I carry a bandanna and I do not give a rot
If there's some that call it a recipient of snot.
'Twas good enough for grandpa and it's good enough for me
And if you do not like it you can soak your head in tea.
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