I thought this might appeal to you. (From "The Times" letter page.)
The wind was rough and cold and blough
She kept her hands inside her mough.

It chilled her through, her nose turned blough,
And still the squall the faster flough.

And yet although there was no snough
The weather was a cruel fough.

It made her cough. (Please do not scough).

She coughed until her hat blew ough.