This is the tale of Hilda Hose
Who had a phosphorescent nose
Which sent out quite a glow before her
Reminding one of dawn's araura.
And people meeting her at night
Would comment on it's ruddy light
And Hilda said, if she heard,
'Ruddy' was a well picked word.
She hated to be thought a freak
And cursed her large and crimson beak.
Especially it terrified her
If motorists drew up beside her
And waited there with words obscene
For Hilda's nose to turn to green.
At last, abandoning restraint,
She camouflaged her nose with paint
But once again she missed the bus
Because the paint was luminous.
And people thought it out of place
To meet a nose without a face.
And Hilda hated being teased,
About the fireworks when she sneezed.
But now, at last, I'm glad to say
Some better luck has come her way,
For though the crimson glow remains
Miss Hilda Hose no more complains.
For Sanctioned by the A.R.P. *
She stands outside a surgery
And with her phosphorescent snout
She guides the patients in and out.
A.R.P. = Air Raid Patrol