masterwordsmith-unplugged

A row of bottles on my shelf

Caused me to analyze myself.

One yellow pill I have to popv Goes to my heart so it won't stop.

A little white one that I take

Goes to my hands so they won't shake.

The blue ones that I use a lot

Tell me I'm happy when I'm not.

The purple pill goes to my brain

And tells me that I have no pain.

The capsules tell me not to wheeze

Or cough or choke or even sneeze.

The red ones, smallest of them all

Go to my blood so I won't fall.

The orange ones, very big and bright

Prevent my leg cramps in the night.v Such an array of brilliant pills

Helping to cure all kinds of ills.

But what I'd really like to know...

Is what tells each one where to go!

Thought I'd let my doctor check me,

'Cause I didn't feel quite right. . .

All those aches and pains annoyed me

And I couldn't sleep at night.

He could find no real disorder

But he wouldn't let it rest.

What with Medicare and Blue Cross,

We would do a couple tests.

To the hospital he sent me

Though I didn't feel that bad.

He arranged for them to give me

Every test that could be had.

I was fluoroscoped and cystoscoped,

My aging frame displayed.

Stripped, on an ice cold table,

While my gizzards were x-rayed.

I was checked for worms and parasites,

For fungus and the crud,

While they pierced me with long needles

Taking samples of my blood.

Doctors came to check me over,

Probed and pushed and poked around,

And to make sure I was living

They then wired me for sound.

They have finally concluded,

Their results have filled a page.

What I have will someday kill me;

My affliction is OLD AGE

I just need a Nap!

-Written by Ira Lerner-