A final diagnosis
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,
We would do a couple 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 fluoroscoped and cystoscoped,
My aging frame displayed.
Stripped, on 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,
And to make sure I was living
They then wired me for sound.

They have finally concluded,
Their results have filled a page.
What I have will someday kill me;
My affliction is old age.

Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust
After church, Johnny tells his parents he has to go and talk
to the minister right away. They agree and the pastor greets
the family.

"Pastor," Johnny says, "I heard you say today that our
bodies came from the dust."

"That's right, Johnny, I did."

"And I heard you say that when we die, our bodies go back to
dust."

"Yes, I'm glad you were listening. Why do you ask?"

"Well you better come over to our house right away and look
under my bed 'cause there's someone either comin' or goin'!"