I’ve got bubonic plague riddled with mange,
With stabbing cold sinus, it’s ever so strange.
If I live past the hour I will be surprised
For surely I am just a walking demised.
My head has encephalitis- the signs are all there,
Alopecia has done for my shedding hair.
I’ve noticed my hearing is going uqite fast,
It’s curtains for me, I’m not going to last.
As senile dementia creeps ever more near
I’ve only the palsy now left to fear.
My throat is like a tube of number-nine grit
And my forehead feels just like Dante’s own pit.
I’ve clearly a virus that’s eating my brain
But I don’t get morbid, I don’t complain.
If asked how I am, I say “I am fine,
Except for the canker that’s eating my spine.”
My ribs are just pitted with Percil’s Disease
And don’t even ask me about my sore knees.
As ear lobes go…..well, one is alright
The other one though has Horseradish Blight.
The muscles that sag from my poor withered frame
Have a uqite unpronounceable medical name.
Have I mentioned my hips? Well where should I start?
And the noise like a two- stroke, well that’s my weak heart.
Nobody knows what a martyr I am
My pretence of fine health is only a sham.
I’ll not see another New Year afresh,
Down to the creeping gangrene I guess.
I’ll just sit in my chair and face up to my lot
With the odd whimper caused my the leprosy rot.
By freezing cold sweats, you’d be amazed how I shiver
Just feeling the fungus that’s eating my liver.
Botulism and baccillus hourly tighten their grasp.
I’m off to my Maker- I see all my past.
NO- ONE could be any braver or bold?
But my wife will insist that I just have a cold.
P.S. The ear lobe, I thought was all right…
Galloping Scobalites- kept me awake all night.
I believe this site holds some really great info for everyone :D. “Do not go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail.” by Ralph Waldo Emerson.