Henry was known
For his smelling
A nose above most
He was telling
The difference between
Musk
Or shaved coconut
Husk
With an olfactory
Beyond measure
And satisfactorily
Giving pleasure
To ladies and men
Within his ken
As a perfumer whose scents
Were without precedence.
A grassy meadow in June
Barnacled boats neath the moon
A bagpipe’s sweet funk
Or wine bottles half drunk
Henry always found the tells
And notes within the smells
To catch the essence
Or the quintessence
And even putrescence
Of the smell at hand
Be it moth-eaten or grand.
But his daily life
Was suffused with strife
Since Henry’s nose
Could never close
And no matter how much
Sweet smelling stuff
He applied
Fumes from the city
Denied
Him peace without pity.
Thus Henry The Nose
Chose
To dodge olfactory blows
With a gas mask carapace
To cover his nose and face
And securely erase
Any trace
Of stinks both foul and strong
Or otherwise wrong.