Children, let us loudly sing,
But without envious voice,
Of Uncle Casper's red, red nose;
For its brilliance, we rejoice!

It was born a dainty shoot;
Nature's gift began so small.
He bathed it with diligent care
In wine and brandy's alcohol.

In time he was -- yea! -- overjoyed
As his bud bloomed into a rose.
Impressive in rosy stature was his
Dark red, wondrous nose.

All roses have prickly thorns
But Casper's has none at all.
Rather just some strands of hair,
And not that much, after all.

Its cup effuses sweetly --
Perfumes, one could almost say:
From his well-known box of snuff
Snuffs he pollens throughout his day.

Often on a morning fresh
With skies of fragrant blue,
One spies upon that heart-shaped rose
A running drop of pearly dew.

When all the other flowers wither,
In the cold, harsh winter's wind,
This miraculous rose of a nose
Is hearty, fit, and always ginned.

Therefore to its prize and glory
We sing this beauteous song.
"Vivat!" to Uncle Casper's nose,
May it bloom both bright and long!