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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 seep at night. He could find no real disorder, but he wouldn’t let it rest. What with Medicare and Blue Cross, it wouldn’t hurt to do some 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 fluroscoped and cystoscoped, my aging frame displayed. Strapped upon 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. An to make sure I was living, they wired me for sound. They have finally concluded; (their results have filled a page) That what I have will some day kill me.