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A CHAT WITH THE DOCTOR

It's all in the mind the doctor said
too much work and you're bloody near dead,
your skin is stuffed and your vision gone
your heart is singing a peculiar song,
it's all in the mind and pressure too high.

Reflexes poked, your lungs are a joke
deaf as a post, and younger than most,
back's all crook and your bum slung low
guts too big and your kidneys gone,
too much wine and women and song.

I guess at the age of thirty-three
you've had some fun and more than me,
quite piqued I am and that's a fact
let's prod some more and have a chat,
while I slaved at medical school's gate
you had a ball, I guess I'm too late.

Let's swap sides with this bloody desk
it's all in the mind and bugger the rest,
here's some pills to help you smile
I'm off with the nurse for a naughty wee while,
pee in the bottle and spit in that bowl -
you might be crook, but I feel bloody old.

John A. Moller
Whiskey Two Company RNZIR

 

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