Nose poke, crave pick, bound for where I sneeze,
rosy red inside: digit-pry tweeze,
hearty flavor when I’m taking a bite.
Hear this: “Pick a winner!” Quip ain’t recondite.

Ah, snout boogers. How come they taste so good?
Ah, snout boogers, pulled from the nasal hood.

Thumb meeting index in olfact’ry slot;
Nez Percé I feel like when my fingers are brought
right up to that bicameral site.
I’m gonna purge ’em—gustation, flick bite.

Ah, snout boogers. How come they taste so good?
Ah, snout boogers. . .a hirsute neighborhood.

A mess o’ manna some call “nose cuisine,”
a treat that’s near meals, to eat between.
Like a schoolboy I ready furtive strikes,
fingers flexed for gustation I likes.

Ah, snout boogers. How come they taste so good?
Ah, snout boogers. . .a purge-food neighborhood.

I go pick-pick-pick, yeah!
Just think, just think of it as snackin’ food