In icy Nosevember, as the west wind blows
As mercury plummets and shutters close
As candles flicker their final throes
What lurks nearby, do you suppose?
From highs or lows, in grim repose
Its steady, strident sniffing grows
Like tell-tale hearts in tales of Poe’s
And where it comes from, no one knows.
So heed this warning, to all those
Who seek out warmth for frozen toes
Where icy moistness sometimes goes,
Beware the chill of … THE LURKING NOSE!