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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 sleep 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 flouroscoped and cystocoped
My aging frame displayed
Stripped 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
Prodded and pushed and poked around
And to make sure I was living
They wired me for sound
They finally concluded
(Their results would fill a page)
What I have will someday kill me