This one is based on a real life experience. The others are not.
For four straight days I've been flat on my back.
Prospects for tomorrow -- not too bright.
But first I have to face another night
Of nose-runs, insomnia, and cough attack.
Day two they put a needle in my hip,
Pumped in some paste, a substance that is not
The amber liquid I would call a shot:
That lovely Malt, imported in green glass.
When morning comes I'll rise to face tomorrow,
Without a Scottish gift to ease my sorrow,
And if some comely lass of nursely station
Approaches from behind with medication
I'll demurr, and if you get my drift,
If she insists, then I will plead the fifth.
-- Jan. 28, 1999, 11:00 pm
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