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The Dreep.
Whit can I dae aboot this continual dreepin'.
Frae my nose a' the day even when I'm sleepin'.
The Doctor says he can dae naethin' aboot it.
He says it's no' somethin' ye can take it oot an' shoot it.
I went tae the Chemist tae pick up my prescription.
An' afore I went in, gave my hooter a guid blow.
But as I bent o'er the coonter tae sign my description.
Watter frae the well o' my nasal canal began tae flow.
The wee lassie wis awfy guid an' didnae make it an issue.
She jist went roon' the back.
An' when she came back.
She gied me a big paper tissue.
In the Post Office oot o' the rain.
An' I noticed my sleeve wis a' damp.
Wi' wipin' the dreep as I walked doon the street.
It wis handy for stickin' the stamp.
It's no' bad the day, noo I've found a way.
A guid way tae kick it.
I jist lick it.
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