There was a young lady whose nose

had the fragrance and shape of a rose!

But she was rather morose 

because everyone knows

that a person can't smell their own nose!

She crossed her eyes trying to look at it

which made her feel dizzy in a heartbeat!

Alas, she couldn't see it

and nor could she smell it

She couldn't even spell it!

All maudlin "Oh the irony!" she'd cry.

"To be blessed with such a curse

so unorhodox and adverse 

Oh, to have wings and be unable to fly..."

Then one day she turned to the sky,

she shook her fists and cursed the almighty power

that deprived her of the scent of her own flower.

Like an unfairly grounded hen 

wondering "why, oh, why?" in vain

she just sat under a tree

like a lame, pitiful poultry.

And she wept and whined and sighed

til the very day she died.