There was an old man of Montrose
Who had a remarkable nose,
So long and so thin,
And so far from his chin,
'Twas always in danger of blows.
One day the old man of Montrose
Went out without muffling his nose;
And it grieves me to tell
That this organ of smell
As stiff as an icicle froze.
Soon after, in sneezing, "ker-choo,"
His nose into smithereens flew,
And left but a stump,
A ridiculous lump,
That even in summer looked blue.
The frost-bitten man of Montrose
Used words that were equal to blows;
And so great his disgrace,
He soon quitted the place,
And where he has gone no one knows.