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Friend Marilyn needed a hip, ‘Cause she’d noticed a limp in her skip. To the doctor she went, Lots of money she spent, And the first thing he said was, “Please strip!”
Mrs. Gorman’s not known to be shy, Speaks her mind with a humor quite dry. But it seems that this doc, Should have offered a smock, Once she’d bared her backside to his eye!
She held her fierce temper at bay, ‘Til the doc said, “I love your sashay!” Now, she’s got a new hip-- And the doc, a split lip! For her joint-- not a cent did she pay!
Kate just divulged the awful news! Disaster, it has struck! My new friend Grahame has got the cruds, and in his bed he’s stuck!
Well that—perhaps-- is worded wrong… He runs from bed to privy And in his haste he can’t throw on a thing except his skivvies!
This bug he’s got, why it is vile! Could it be dysentery? Well, if it is, we’ve got the cure! My friend, do not be wary!
The doc told us, this ONE SMALL PILL would fix you up right quick! So trust us, Grahame, and swallow it! Oh, dear…you’re looking sick!
Well, Holy Smokes, move over Kate! I think that doc’s a quack! For here I read that pill he took is powdered Ipecac!
He’s on the run, so clear a path! He’s gonna toss his cookies! But I’m quite sure he’ll reach his goal…Oh, no, here comes that Wookie!
And right behind him, there is Claude, and on his tail, there’s Tigger! Those cats now block the bathroom door! But why? I just can’t figger!
What will our Ali g do now, with kittens in the way? He’s gonna barf, there is no doubt! Good Lord, his face is gray!
From somewhere deep inside himself, Grahame gathers up his strength And leaps with long (and naked) legs…and clears them by a length!
He’s hurdled over all the cats, he now is toilet-bound! We hear the lid slam open… Then what god-awful sound!
I look at Kate and shudder. She says, ‘Well, that’s a fluke! I’ve given Grahame those pills each day to help him NOT to puke!’
‘But Ipecac,’ I wisely say ‘does cause projectile vomit!’ ‘Well, look at that, Kaz—you are right ! His shorts have popped a grommet!’
We ladies stood well back from Grahame, as once again he hurled… But those dear cats did comfort him, and round his knees they curled.
And when at last twas nothing left, when Grahame had upped his chuck… He turned a tortured face to us and said, ‘Well, holy-- BEEP!
‘I’ve never, ever gagged so hard! Like that, I’ve NEVER heaved! ‘I’ve been ingesting Ipecac? I really am quite peeved!
‘Now darling,’ Grahame did speak to Kate, ‘I need clean shorts, I fear… ‘In addition to that vomit… I’ve projectiled out the rear.’
His Kathy went to get his pants while on cold tile he sat, His forehead leaned against the throne, and on his lap, a cat.
‘Well, friend,’ I say from far away, (for I don’t want his bug) ‘As online pals most often do, I’ll email you a hug!
‘Now, take a bit of Yank advice! That doctor you should sue ‘For he has caused you endless days of vomiting and spew!’
Poor Grahame, he shook his aching head. ‘Kaz, I am really pissed! ‘But I don’t blame my doctor, It’s that damned optometrist!
‘You see…I’ve got new glasses. I paid a handsome buck! ‘To see all things both far and near… And now I’m really-- BEEP.
‘For I can’t see beyond my nose! Bi-focals are the pits! ‘I misread that pill label, and gave myself the shits!’
Saws... those cutting disks. Oh, you know the risks! Digits, they can lop. Fingers, they can chop. Chuck pushed into a turning blade of steel. He went down, down, down to the wicked, spinning wheel. And it sliced, diced, pared... That blade of steel... that spinning wheel. Yes, you know it’s grim When your pointer’s trimmed! First, you feel quite numb... At least, you have your thumb! Chuck pushed into a turning blade of steel. He went down, down, down to the wicked, spinning wheel. And it sliced, diced, pared... That blade of steel... that spinning wheel. When fingers you must prune, Do it be-fore noon! Choosing what to sever Is a grand endeavor! Chuck pushed into a turning blade of steel. He went down, down, down to the wicked, spinning wheel. And it sliced, diced, pared... That blade of steel... that spinning wheel. Laughter is the remedy, When loosing an extremity! But we still think you’re great-- Though fingers, you’ve got eight. Chuck pushed into a turning blade of steel. He went down, down, down to the wicked, spinning wheel. And it sliced, diced, pared... That blade of steel... that spinning wheel. (That spinning wheel...)
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