An old cowpoke went riding out
One dark and windy day,
He had a tickle in his throat
That wouldn't go away,
And then he started sniffling
His eyes were tearing too
His head was like to burst apart
It was so full of goo.

He'd popped the echinacea
And he'd gargled with the salt
His buddies at the bunkhouse
Acted like it was his fault
A bolt of fear shot through him as
He knew what this must mean,
For he felt the riders comin' hard
And he knew that they were green

Drippee-yi-ya, drippee-yi-yo,
Ghostriders up the nose.

The ghostly riders keeping herd
On steers all made of mulch
They had to get their mucus doggies
Down his nasal gulch
To meet the phlegm that's drivin' north
From deep within his lung
And as they pass they'll leave their mark
Like hoofprints on his tongue

His crumpled tissue tumbleweeds
Went rolling down the street
Then he remembered words he'd heard
From ole Post-nasal Pete:
"You starve a cold now bucko,
But a fever you should feed,
Get rest, drink plenty of fluids,
Or you'll have a snot stampede."