Among the body's organs that is never in repose
There is none so busy as the solitary nose.
Throned in grandeur on the face like ancient pyramid,
putting men a step above the ostrich and the squid.
Vigilant in sniffing out an onion or a rose –
Everybody wishes that they had a second nose.
One to poke in business that is none of their affair –
One to signify contempt by pointing in the air.
Whether yours is button cute or something from Durante,
Pampered in a mansion or ground down in tumbled shanty,
Browned upon the bosses' rear or bent quite out of shape,
Our nose is what keeps all of us from looking like a grape.
So raise a Kleenex in salute to noses sweet as sugar . . .
when your pride is at the flood you're bound to drop a booger.
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