You've Got a Cold
Your nose is runningAnd your eyes are redYour head is achingYou'd be better in bedFrom the bottom of your feverTo the throbbing in your toesYou've got a coldYou've got a cold
You're searching madlyTo find a cureBut the mercury's risingTo a hundred and fourYou've got a beauty, a bad selfThe mother of them allYou've got a coldYou've got a cold
Ain't no use in fighting itGet into bed and try to sweat it out
Hot toddies won't help youWarm blankets won't sweat it outInhalants just choke youHot flushes will tell youAnyway you've got itAin't no doubt about itNothing new aboutYou can scream and shout it
Hot toddies won't help youWarm blankets won't sweat it outInhalants just choke youHot flushes will tell youAnyway you've got itAin't no doubt about itNothing new aboutYou can't fight it
Foreign bodies in your KleenexYou've got no taste at allWhile your system is dyingThe bugs are having a ballYou've got a beauty, a bad selfThe mother of them allYou've got a coldYou've got a cold