Down the back of my throat,
It flows, it flows.
This feeling of pain,
It grows, it grows.
I hack, and I cough,
And I sneeze, and I spew,
And now I can't sleep.
What to do, what to do?
After tossing and turning
And itching and burning,
And swallowing medicine
Most vile and disturbing,
I sit and await
NyQuill's pleasant release.
Bring me sleep, bring me comfort,
Please bring me some peace.