The postman has a cold
So much to his dismay
He has to go in the frost
Angry at having to sway
Over while picking up
the missives he has got
He fiendishly flaunt
His hellbent virus’muck
The postman has a cold
And the goods he delivers
Will come with not only
Bills, ads' he shivers
An occasional personal card
Parcels and whatnots
But are embraced with
His loving care snot.
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