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Friday, 15 January 2021

The Hypocondriac

Nobody listens & nobody sees

The afflictions that bring a man to his knees

He said as around the market he raced

And then loaded his car in the disabled space


Nobody cares, it's not cheap to be ill

He said it before, he's saying it still

As he sups up his beer and drags again hard

On his fag while he scratches a lottery card


I don't ask a lot, just what is my right

And my worries, they keep me awake in the night

He exclaimed and then belched and patted his belly

Before falling asleep in front of the telly


He murmured 'I think I may die in the night'

As chance would have it he was quite right

In spite, or because, of all he had said

When he woke up - he was dead


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