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.

A man with a pegleg, hook hand and...
A man with a pegleg, hook hand and an eyepatch went to apply to be a pirate.
Interviewer: How did you get that pegleg?

Pirate: Arrr. I got me leg shot off during the first world war.

Interviewer: How did you get that hook?

Pirate: I got me hand cut off by a big knife.

Interviewer: What about your eyepatch?

Pirate: It was a rainy afternoon and I looked up into the sky and a bird pooped in me eye.

Interviewer: And that put your eye out?

Pirate: No, it was the day after I got me hook.