Hypochondria Isn't The Harlot's Proof
I think I have a broken leg
I think my spleen is leaking
So go at once to Casualty
Now. while I'm still speaking
Or I'll inscribe a boiled egg
With love from B B King
I know you shudder at this thought,
You quake at the suggestion
All of the way to Casualty
With fatal indigestion
From eggs and B B's boiled smeg
That would not come to question.
You, then, with your injuries,
Who fail to see the pattern
Will find your way to Casualty?
Inscribe your eggs in Latin?
Throw your diamonds on a keg -
And go and let the cat in.
Contributors: | Irene Adler, Dassn't Say, Apsley, loaf, Kevin Andrew Murphy. |
Poem finished: | 3rd November 2003 by Apsley (as himself). |