They say there’s gold in them thar hills
They say that’s where it grows
But I’ve been hunting for it in my face hill
Otherwise known as my nose

I heard there is a mythical booger
And it’s not icky or sticky or green
But gold and the size of a conker
And up until now it has never been seen

I’ve been picking for years in my mucus mines
Though I’ve often been told to stop
But I keep on going when nobody’s looking
I can feel the gold one just waiting to drop

There was a point where I had gone too far
And had to be hospitalised
Because I’d got my whole hand stuck in there
But that’s when they realised

My hand was pulled out all covered in goo
The contents placed in a pan so cold
And when they looked down I could hear them go ooh
Because laying there was my nose nugget of gold!

Nose Nuggets - A short funny poem about a mucus-covered miner