My nose is filled with prisoners,
Who are all trying to escape,
I can’t tell if they’re naked,
Or wearing a big green cape,
My nose is filled with trouble,
It screams, when I blow out,
And when I sneeze, it bends my knees,
And my nose can’t help but shout.
My nose perhaps, is walking a dog,
Sometimes when I breathe, it whistles,
I have a moustache so when I breathe,
It blows music through my thistles.
If I were walking through the woods,
On the top of my upper lip,
I’d watch which way I wondered,
And be careful not to slip.
My nose is filled with mystery,
There is so much I don’t know,
But as long as it holds secrets,
It doesn’t lie, and so, won’t grow.