“NOSES”

Bay of Plenty Beacon, Volume 10, Issue 65, 20 December 1946, Page 8

“NOSES”

You see, when e’er you go to town, A show without any charge Noses black, red, blue and brown Small, medium and large. There’s no mistake about it No matter where he goes A feller with a smeller '- l Always knows he’s got a nose. There’s the Greek nose, the Roman nose The turnup and the pug— Nasal organs that resemble The handle of a jug. Some are broken by a fall Others in an attempt to stall A punching pugilistic fist Resulting in a lifelong twist. History records the nose Of Cromwell with its wort The Iron Duke’s proboscis Hated by Bonaparte; Lawyer Lambs enormous nose That blossomed like a red rose And lifted him from love’s despair To be a jubilant Cavalier. “I love you,” his enchantess said For your nose, cardinally red That goes so well with my red hair We are indeed a well matched pair.” The baby’s nose, if pretty Is mother’s o’er again ! If not it’s up to father To meekly bear the blame. Some nose or other one must have To breathe life giving air. Whatever sort of nose it is, Nature’s distributions fair, And compensates the owners Of noses that are plain By saving them the trouble Of being proud and vain— Which often mars the beauty Of faces fair to see Because their owners lack the charm Of. lovely charity. That with beauty and with grace Often endows the plainest face With a charm that naught can ere displace. H. SERGANT. f '"~"